


Four Seasons

by Reyanth



Series: 24/7/365 [2]
Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Cousin Incest, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Penis Size, Sibling Incest, Trauma, Weird cult-like notions about kissing and marriage, triangles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:54:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27687209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reyanth/pseuds/Reyanth
Summary: The flagship season of the new and improved Mankai Company has ended in success―both onstage and of the heart. With a variety of relationships in full bloom, the company welcomes four new members into its ranks to shake things up.Sequel to Seven Flings (recommended to be read first). All pre-existing relationships remain in play.1. Chikage/Misumi2. Omi/Kumon3. Sakyo/Banri, Sakyou+Azami, Banri+Azami4. ???5. ???
Relationships: Chigasaki Itaru/Rurikawa Yuki, Furuichi Sakyou & Izumida Azami, Furuichi Sakyou/Settsu Banri, Fushimi Omi/Hyoudou Kumon, Hyoudou Juuza/Hyoudou Kumon, Hyoudou Juuza/Sakisaka Muku, Hyoudou Juuza/Sakisaka Muku/Settsu Banri, Settsu Banri & Izumida Azami, Utsuki Chikage/Misumi Ikaruga
Series: 24/7/365 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024681
Comments: 16
Kudos: 35





	1. Think Outside the Triangle

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't yet read it, please check out Seven Flings to learn the backstory of this new chapter in the Mankai Company's romantic exploits.
> 
> Seven Flings:  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/19065457/chapters/45288751

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chikage/Misumi 
> 
> A frustrated Chikage is consistently drawn into the orbit of a downhearted Misumi, and the two recognize something in one another before learning to re-evaluate.
> 
> Warning: Brief description of past rape of a minor by an adult. It's not detailed, but the circumstances are cruel and may be triggering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, the mysteries of Misumi's past and his romantic destination are revealed!
> 
> This was a pairing I've had in mind for a long time. Long before I decided to write Tenma/Misumi, in fact. Regardless, it has not been an easy chapter to write. There is a lot of friction and a lot of history for both characters to work through before they can open up completely, and Chikage comes off as a villain early on. I only hope he becomes a little more relatable as his narrative progresses.

Chikage hadn't joined Mankai to play happy families, and that wasn't why he stayed, either, but once he finally moved into the dorm for real, it didn't take long at all until the younger members of the company started to really push his boundaries. He was glad to have won them over, but he also didn't quite want to have to deal with their drama and exuberance.

Sakuya's naive charm was one thing, but Chikage struggled to understand characters like Yuki or Muku. The violent energies of Juza and Banri also set him quite on edge. And then there were the exhausting Taiki, Kazunari, and Homare. Living with Itaru had its ups and downs, but the nerd seemed to prefer to maintain some of his professionalism around Chikage, lest he let slip at work as well. 

The worst of the bunch was by far the mad sideshow act that was Misumi. Chikage couldn't even begin to guess at what that wildcard might pull next, or even where he was coming from in most situations. It was mildly infuriating that he had such drive and focus while acting, and then turned into some kind of demented clown. Just the thought of all that wasted potential made Chikage fume.

Sighing as he all but slammed the door, Chikage pulled on the knot of his tie, trying to loosen it, but his frustration got the best of him. He just couldn't get it loose. Before he knew it, he was growling and yanking, and hurting his neck.

"Try slipping your finger in the hole," came a dry comment from Itaru's bunk, immediately followed by a snort of immature laughter from a lump beneath the blanket.

Chikage clicked his tongue in disgust, followed Yuki's expert advice, and turned a blind eye as Itaru peeked out from his little smut cave. Hanging his tie and pulling off his glasses, he rubbed his tired eyes.

"You're home early," Itaru grumbled.

"I got all my work done," Chikage muttered, sitting down at his desk and scrubbing his hands through his hair, massaging his scalp.

"All of it?"

Itaru's shock was valid, but Chikage didn't bother to validate him. He'd had a mammoth urgent task list, and somehow managed to power his way through it, to the detriment of his grey matter. He had one hell of a headache—and that was just his day job.

"Come to my room?" the crossdressing minor asked his degenerate adult lover.

"Don't mind me," Chikage groaned, sarcastically.

"I guess," Itaru agreed. "If Tenma's out."

"He just messaged to say he's out with Akito all night."

"When the hell did you have time to look at your phone?"

"I don't wanna hear that from you. You're literally tapping blindly right now."

"Fair."

Chikage tuned out, trying to actively lower his cortisol levels by flipping through a little book of postcards he kept from his travels and thinking about how much he could do with an excuse to take off for a while. He hadn't taken another mission since discovering Decem... Hiso... December's whereabouts. A mission would blow off a lot of pent-up stress. Too bad they didn't just fall out of the sky...

But apparently company members did. Chikage was shocked into sitting up straight as an arrow when something plummeted past the window. The something had conspicuous bluish-grey hair and somehow formed a triangle in the air as it fell.

"Ikaruga!?"

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Chikage knew it was probably just Misumi being Misumi, but the angle and velocity with which the hooligan had been falling left Chikage with visions of broken spines and smashed-up limbs. He rushed out the door and ran for the courtyard, veering around corners to get outside from there. When he reached the supposed landing point, there was no one there...and nothing to suggest anyone had been hurt. 

Growling, Chikage habitually flattened down his hair as he often did when angry or shaken, and trudged back to his room. Itaru met him at the door.

"Senpai? What was that all about?"

"Nothing," Chikage said tightly. "Just Ikaruga being a damn fool."

"Ahuh... In that case, it's kinda cute how worried you were. Anyway, I'll try not to wake you when I get back, so get some good sleep. You look like you need it."

With Yuki in tow, Itaru sidled off, walking with the awkward waddle of a man trying to hide a raging boner. Not that he'd be fooling anyone, really. Except maybe Sakuya. Most of the company seemed aware of the various relationships that had formed over the flagship season, like it or lump it.

As he sighed and felt a little of his stress dissolve into the recesses of the blessedly empty room, he thought of August, and how he had felt watching the one he loved grow ever-closer with December. It wasn't crazy to believe for a moment that Misumi had dived off that roof with the intention to harm himself. It was never easy being stuck on the outside, looking in at your own heart's desire...

Itaru was right. For once, Chikage needed sleep. He was getting sentimental.

*

Misumi lay on an arm of a tall tree, reaching up toward the night sky. Through the branches, the heavens looked like a jigsaw puzzle waiting to be connected. He felt like one tiny piece of the great big world, and that put him at ease.

Lately, the dorm felt too cramped. He seemed to run into Tenma everywhere.

That was fine. Misumi didn't mind that Tenma was happy. It was good that Tenma was happy. In fact, Misumi really liked Akito and thought they made a great couple, so even when they were hanging around the common areas of the dorm together, not being particularly discreet—as if the word was anywhere in Akito's dictionary, what with the form-fitting clothes he wore more and more often lately... Even then, Misumi didn't begrudge their relationship. He just felt...like an imposition.

At night, sometimes it felt like the walls were closing in, so he would escape up to the roof, but then he'd hear all sorts of things from different rooms that didn't make him feel any better. He just felt more and more lonely... So he came out to the park to lie in the tree branches and gaze up at the stars, and he reminded himself that there were a lot of beautiful stars out there and he just had to find the right pieces and put them together.

When his heart was at peace again, he would head back to the dorm and tuck himself into bed where he would dream of six-pointed stars and all the little triangles that formed them...

And then he'd wake, and he'd go down to get breakfast, and Akito would be kissing Tenma's neck at the kitchen counter while the movie star brewed coffee for the two of them. They were picture perfect, and it never failed to give Misumi butterflies. He could stand there watching all day, if the new Spring Troupe actor wouldn't get in the way by prodding him from behind, pushing him into the kitchen and slipping past. Of course, that would draw Tenma's attention, and he'd disengage from Akito, looking guilty, while the musician gave Misumi a glance of frustration before he managed to conceal his true feelings.

So Tenma would be awkward around him, Akito would be annoyed, the fun little love triangle fantasy would be shattered, and Chikage seemed to just outright hate Misumi. It was a shame. Misumi thought the man was quite handsome and cultured. He could use a distraction like that if he didn't feel like a such nuisance whenever those critical eyes alighted upon him from within their big, round frames. Sometimes... Sometimes, he saw someone else in Chikage—someone he had made pains to forget—and the menace in that cold gaze took him back to a dark, scary place...

That was just one example of how Misumi's day might get off to another bad start, sending him out into the park at night to meditate on the stars until his heart felt lighter once more.

*

Akito was sleeping over so frequently that Yuki spent most of his nights in Chikage and Itaru's dorm, and more often than not, a lot of stifled moaning would ensue in the middle of the night. Sometimes, Chikage wished he was not so attuned to noises in his sleep. The inconvenience became double-fold when Akito's constant presence started to chafe on Misumi. Chikage felt for the poor dolt, really, but there was a point where one simply had to accept the status quo and get on with their life instead of grating on the nerves of those around them all day long.

A paper airplane here, a dorito there, a Give Way sign sticker where it didn't belong, a coat hanger that caught on a jacket sleeve at just the wrong moment, a billiard ball rack hanging on a door handle... One by one, the little irritations added up until Chikage started to get a twitch whenever he noticed how perfectly triangular anything was.

Then there was the noise, the commotion, the glee and the singing... It was bad enough that Chikage had to deal with December masquerading around as an innocent little narcoleptic. The chaos that followed in Misumi's wake was beginning to gnaw its way under his tough skin.

At the end of a long week of work, he decided to recover some equilibrium through a little time in the kitchen with his own personal stash of spices. The natural scents and earthy tones calmed and centered him as he mixed and measured.

Some clove to offset the ginger... A pinch of cinnamon. No... That didn't look like enough. Chikage spun the bottle and gave it a few more taps until he was satisfied. A little powered oregano, and a sprinkle of the dried leaf, as well. Just a dash of turmeric... It was a herb with many healthful properties, but the bitter flavor could be overpowering when abused.

Holding the bottle steady and giving it a cautious tap with his fingernail, Chikage narrowed his eyes. Just a smidgeon more...

"Tri-tri-triangle!"

There was no accounting for hurricane Misumi.

"Sorry!"

A little too much turmeric might still have been workable, but when Misumi went careening through the kitchen and knocked into Chikage from behind, his fingernail caught beneath the sprinkle cap, popping it off like a Pringles lid and dumping a mound of yellow powder into his carefully crafted curry.

Horrified, Chikage acted fast, grabbing a spoon and bailing out the turmeric mountain before it could sink into the liquid proponent and be dissolved. By the time he was done, he'd scooped roughly two thirds of the potent herb into an empty bowl from the drying rack. The rest was a part of the rue forever.

Apprehensive, Chikage gave his intended magnum opus a stir, and then lifted the spoon to his mouth, flicking his tongue out for a taste. It wanted to shrivel up and die of bitter mortification.

Dropping the spoon, Chikage took off, running for the courtyard where further commotion gave away Misumi's location. The human disaster was scrambling back down a tree with Hisoka in tow, and almost ran right into Chikage yet again.

Chikage, however, wasn't having it. He snarled and ducked to the side, snatching Misumi's arm and pulling it into a ruthless hold that turned momentum against his victim. He was mildly surprised that his wild grab stuck, but he expected Misumi to cut loose at any moment and so he tightened his grip.

"You damn brat. Do you have any consideration at all for the people who live outside of that fantasy headspace of yours!?" he growled, giving a jolt of the arm for good measure while he still had a hold on the troublemaker.

Misumi just cried out, his bicep pulling as he tried to twist free.

"Stop! Don't struggle!" Hisoka warned, running up and stopping cold in front of Chikage and his captive. "Let him go. That's not nice."

"Then why don't you break him free?"

"I can't! I don't... I don't do things like that... But you're hurting him. Please..."

Leaning down beside a pert little ear, Chikage eased off the pressure and stared into Hisoka's eyes as he asked Misumi, "Am I hurting you?"

Misumi nodded, biting his lip to keep his silence.

"Are you sorry?"

Misumi nodded again, letting out a small whimper.

"Good. Then maybe you'll think twice before ruining someone's dinner," Chikage scolded, letting go. Misumi took a few steps, turning as he went. There were tears in his eyes, and he looked...hurt. And not in the physical sense.

"I'm sorry," he mouthed, and then bolted, not stopping until he crashed all the way up the stairs and into his room, slamming the door behind him.

Crossing his arms, Hisoka kept his distance but bravely stood up to a shaken Chikage.

"That wasn't fair," he said.

Trying to put the sight of bright, cheerful Misumi's face crumpled in anguish out of his mind, Chikage sneered at his enemy. "Life isn't fair and you know it. The sooner you stop pretending, the better."

Shaking his head, Hisoka looked sheepish but determined. "I know what you want from me, but you shouldn't take it out on Misumi. He didn't mean any harm."

Of course he didn't. Misumi was a kind and gentle soul. He didn't have a hurtful bone in his body.

"Then he shouldn't have caused any," Chikage snapped, shoving his way past the stationary lump in his way and returning to the kitchen to dispose of his intended dinner.

There was nothing for it but to start over. He'd used the last of the ginger, so he was going to have to open a fresh bottle. 

As he began his work over again, Chikage kept seeing those sparkling tears, unshed but imminent. He wondered if Misumi was crying even now. Had he really been that harsh? Hisoka seemed to think so.

Just the thought of Hisoka made Chikage's hand tremble with fury, causing him to wrap his fist about the bottle of sage to keep from spilling that, too. If he'd been unnecessarily hard on Misumi, it was all Hisoka's fault for riling him up. How dare he stand there and preach about fairness and niceties! His failure had murdered a man and he was just getting away with it, living his best, amnesiac life...

Slamming the bottle down on the counter, Chikage bent over to hide his face in his arms lest someone walk by and see him caught in the grip of such emotion. There was no Hisoka, only December. Because of December, August was dead. Because of December, April was all but alone. December was all he had left.

A sob escaped Chikage and he sank to the floor, leaning back against a cabinet and fighting his own constricting throat for air. How could he ever think he could do this? How could he keep up this little game of make-believe like his world hadn't been taken away...?

There, in the yawning cavern of despair, he saw the answer. There was nothing left but make-believe. When his whole world was gone, pretending was the only alternative.

And suddenly, he understood Misumi in a way he would never have imagined. How had he never seen it before? How had none of this merry band of morons ever seen it?

Wiping his cheeks, Chikage pulled himself to his feet. He went to the sink and took off his glasses, splashing his face with water to take the heat out of his tear-stained skin. Then, he went back to work, adding a second bowl to the first.

He hadn't intended to eat any rice, but when he was done making his curry, he scooped some up from the ever-full rice cooker and shaped it into a pair of rice balls. Then, he put them on a plate, which he set on a tray along with the two bowls of thin curry, and calmly made his way upstairs to Misumi's room.

"Ikaruga." He waited. No answer. "Ikaruga, open the door." Silence. "Ikaruga..." Sighing, Chikage stripped the mounting irritation from his tone and softened it, just as the director had taught him. "Misumi. Please."

"What's the password?"

Chikage almost rolled his eyes. 

"Triangle."

"How do you know the password?"

"Just let me in, already!" he groaned, already regretting this figurative olive branch.

The sight that greeted Chikage was not the pouting child he had expected, but a young man wearing an expression of melancholy that did not suit his bright features. It was a sight that made him uncomfortable, because it tugged at the strings of his heart that were otherwise so caked and crusted with grime and dirt, and stiffened from disuse, that it hurt.

"I apologize," he said promptly, making his way past a baffling assortment of triangular junk to place the tray down on Misumi's table. He stood up straight, looked awkwardly at the young man, and then glanced at the door, thinking to cut and run before he started to wonder too deeply about what he was feeling.

He was not so lucky. The long, thin fingers that clutched at his back had a powerful grip, and dug into muscle through his starched shirt. The face buried under his collar was hidden behind hair the color of rain. From this angle, Misumi suddenly looked his age, for once, his whole demeanor shifting in a way that re-fabricated Chikage's world.

It wasn't the scent, or the feel... It wasn't the aesthetic... It was the sadness; the gut-wrenching sorrow that was packed away in this bundle of chaotic energy, crushed down and buried until it compressed into a dazzling little diamond.

"You don't hate me?" Misumi rasped, turning his face upward. His eyes were dry, but glassy. His cheeks were flushed with color, but not a blush of embarrassment. He was holding back his pain in a way that Chikage had never seen.

Now that he had become aware of the hidden layers beneath the cheery facade, he could not unsee them. This young man had been through a lot, and acting like a child was his coping mechanism. Peel back the facade, and Ikaruga, Misumi was utterly enchanting...in that same, sorrowful way that August had been.

Chikage realized he wasn't breathing and slowly let out his breath, trying not to let it shake. He quickly assessed that the best tactical option to pry the strong actor loose was to go from the waist. He closed his hands around that subtly muscled frame and pushed gently.

Misumi didn't budge. The feel of him under Chikage's hands was so solid and real, the lines of what was make-believe and what was not seemed to blur for a moment.

"I don't hate you," he assured—the next best tactic was to cause Misumi to remove himself. Address his concern and he just might.

"I'm glad," Misumi breathed. 

He didn't let go. Chikage was caught in the awkward embrace, lost for how to proceed. 

"Look, I'm sorry I yelled at you, okay? It was insensitive. I know you're hurting over Tenma." Deflection was a handy tool in the arsenal of anyone in Chikage's line of night job.

"You know that, too? How do you know everything?" Misumi gasped, wide-eyed.

Okay, so maybe the cute, dumb dork act wasn't entirely an act...

"I don't," Chikage admitted. "For instance, I don't understand why you didn't just dodge out of my grip, or break yourself free, earlier. It certainly shouldn't have been so difficult for you."

At last Misumi let go, taking a step backward... Then another. "I don't...like being restrained," he whispered.

"Well, obviously. If I thought you'd like it I wouldn't have done it," Chikage reasoned, smoothing down his shirt in relief. He could make his escape now. All he had to do was grab his own bowl and take it back to his room where he would be home free. "I was quite angry," he said, reaching for the bowl.

"No... I can't." The small, diminished tone razored through him, making Chikage freeze. He slowly turned his eyes toward Misumi, who was clutching his own arms, defensively. "I can't...think or breathe. It's like I'm back again... I hate it."

Slowly... Casually... Chikage moved forward. Choosing his angle carefully, he reached out with his fingertips, touching Misumi's elbow and gently, non-threateningly sliding his hand up to a trembling shoulder. When he made contact with the other elbow, he was able to pull Misumi to him without resistance. He didn't wrap his arms around the shuddering frame, simply touching shoulder and elbow and letting Misumi lean into him if he so chose.

"Nobody is holding you against your will," he assured. "Nobody is restraining you. I'm sorry that I hurt you, Misumi. That wasn't your fault. It was..." Chikage cleared his throat, thinking of Hisoka. He hated taking the fall for someone else's mistakes. "It was mine. I didn't expect to actually catch you... Now that I know, I promise you I will never do so again, and nor will anybody else on my watch."

After a little while, Misumi tucked his head up under Chikage's chin and said, "You can hug me. I'm okay now."

Some time later, he and Misumi sat on the floor on opposite sides of the triangle table, for some reason using the cushy arm chairs as props for the backs instead of sitting in them. Chikage licked his lips in satisfaction and shook his head in wonder as little grains of rice clung affectionately to smiling cheeks while a rice ball met its hungry demise.

That was the first meal they shared together. It became a regular ritual. On nights when he finished before 10 pm, Chikage would make spiced soups, stews, or curries, always putting together a rice ball or two for Misumi, and they would eat together. They mostly took their meals in silence, exchanging only the minimum of formalities, but every so often, Misumi would tell Chikage about something that happened during his day or his week.

His anecdotes weren't the whimsical little fancies Chikage would have come to expect from him. They were more introspective observations, or even recounts of something Misumi had read or heard. Once, he even brought up a political topic about a newly passed bill he didn't quite agree with.

Little by little, the childish demeanor faded during those dinners, and the clever, thoughtful adult came out of his shell, surprising Chikage with his depth and intrigue. Even the tone of Misumi's voice dropped a note or two, as if he was speaking in his true range only when he was relaxed and unawares. Sometimes, he was as cheerful as ever, in a more charming, mature way...and sometimes he was quieter, withdrawn...

"Can I tell you something?" he asked one night, out of the blue.

Noting that Misumi had been picking at his rice ball without eating it, Chikage could guess at the subject matter. He shrugged, giving his soup a stir. "That's up to you. You can if you want to."

After a short while, Misumi began to speak. It was obvious he hadn't been so open about this with anyone, and Chikage was mildly flattered. Misumi told the story of how he first realized he liked Tenma, and confessed they'd had a fling while Tenma and Akito were broken up. Then, he went on to say what Chikage already knew—that he wasn't coping well with seeing them together all the time.

"Why don't you ask them to take it easy?" Chikage suggested. "Surely you have that right."

Sadly, Misumi shook his head, staring into his soup like it contained hidden pearls of wisdom under its spice-clouded surface. "I tried that once," he said. "Not...with Tenma. With someone else."

Knowing full well that he was approaching an open wound with hands coated in salt, Chikage asked anyway. "And? What happened?"

"There was a man I liked," Misumi said softly. "The man...my father was seeing."

Chikage remained silent, feeling a little bile rise up in his throat as he predicted where this was going. He didn't want to hear it, and Misumi didn't want to say it...but he needed to say it, so Chikage needed to hear it.

"I told them how I felt, and how hard it was when they were so open about their relationship around me. I asked them to keep it private, so it wouldn't sting so badly..."

"Enough," Chikage whispered, undermining his own resolve because his hands were trembling so much his spoon was beginning to clatter against the rim of the bowl. He let it go, folding his hands in his lap. 

He knew Misumi had secrets. He knew Misumi was in pain. He didn't want to know why...and even if he thought he did know, he didn't want to hear it said aloud. He couldn't stop thinking of another time and another place... Another story... Another wounded angel...

"I thought I loved him... He was handsome and talented, and he shone like the stars when my father took us to see him onstage one time. After that, I went to watch him myself, in secret. I thought I understood everything about him. I didn't know him at all. When I told them I was struggling, and asked them to spare me all that heartache and confusion of loving my own father's partner... He laughed. He told my father he was open to being shared. My father just sat there and watched, looking like he hated me. He did... He still does."

"You don't...have to..."

"He held me down, pinned my... Pinned my arm behind my back... And my father...just watched."

The silence stretched out, and Chikage was grateful that Misumi didn't continue to spell out in detail what had happened. He could imagine it well enough, and it sickened him.

"I'm so sorry that you went through that, Misumi," he said eventually, his voice seeming boomingly loud to his own ears.

"I don't...think about it very often," Misumi murmured. "Most of the time, it's like remembering a story of something that happened to someone else. I haven't been home in years. I haven't seen my father, or my little brother... Or him. But lately..."

"It's my fault," Chikage surmised. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

"Nothing," Misumi answered, looking up to meet Chikage's gaze with clarity in his eyes. "I told you because...I wanted you to know...why...it's complicated for me to be around you."

"Because I reminded you when I grabbed your arm."

"Because you remind me all the time. You look like him, a little."

"I'm sorry," Chikage offered up as a token, because he understood that conundrum and shared it. "You...remind me of someone, too. Though, I dare say my memories of him are happier ones in many ways."

Shrinking into himself, Misumi rested his chin on his knees. "I really like you, Chikage," he quietly confessed. "I didn't, at first...because of him, but you're not like him at all. I know you probably don't see me that way, but you've been so sweet lately... I can't help it."

"I'm not the man you think I am."

"I know."

They sat in silence for a short while longer until Chikage stood up and walked around the pointed apex of the triangular table. He knew he should be making for the door, but instead, he sat down at Misumi's side, close, but not touching.

"I tried to hurt this company," he said softly. "I came here to harm Hisoka."

Looking down at his hands, folded around his shins, Misumi nodded minutely and said, "I know. He told me after we got into that fight..."

"What did he tell you, exactly?" Chikage breathed, wondering if he would have to kill this innocent young man and make a run for it...or even if he could.

"He took someone special away from you...so you get really mad at him sometimes, even when you don't mean to."

Shocked, Chikage rocked backwards, trying to process that statement. He didn't know how he felt about it at all.

"That's who I remind you of, isn't it?" Misumi asked. "That person who was special to you."

Feeling more vulnerable than he had done since long before meeting August, Chikage swallowed heavily, unable to tear his eyes from Misumi's. "In some ways, yes," he admitted.

As Misumi leaned toward him, he knew exactly what was happening, and even though he knew it wasn't the right time or for the right reasons, he let Misumi slip off his glasses and kiss him. It was a slow, gentle kiss, full of hesitancy on Misumi's part and restraint on Chikage's, but it was sweet, nonetheless.

When they parted, Misumi watched him expectantly, but Chikage shook his head. "Neither of us is ready for this," he said.

"Okay," Misumi agreed, backing off. He quickly changed the subject, wondering aloud what kind of play his troupe would be putting on next, and if they would find a new member, too.

Chikage only half listened, distracted by his tingling lips and the blurry vision of the weird and wonderful man he was starting to fall for.

*

Misumi didn't understand it. He could tell Chikage liked him, so what was the problem? Why was he pulling away just when they were getting so close?

Was it because Misumi had spoken about his past? It wasn't something he had felt comfortable telling anybody before, so he was really happy he'd been able to tell Chikage. He felt a little bit lighter, a little bit free-er... But maybe Chikage felt weird about it... Maybe Misumi shouldn't have told him he looked like that man... It was mainly the glasses and the cut of his hair, really... That fashionable, "older man" atmosphere that had so attracted Misumi in the first place... But that wasn't why he liked Chikage.

Misumi was pretty sure he'd gotten to see a side of Chikage even Itaru didn't know about. Chikage could be really thoughtful and sweet when he let his guard down and stopped trying to ward people off. He seemed to relax around Misumi a lot, too, so maybe Misumi was reading too much into that, or...

No. Chikage liked him. Even now, he could feel the heat of Chikage's eyes on him, always watching closely as if drinking in everything he said...

Maybe he was worried Misumi still liked Tenma...and that was fair, because Misumi still did like Tenma. But that was different. There were crushes where you felt warm and giddy inside when you looked at someone or heard their voice... Pure chemistry. And then... Then there was the soft, happy feeling that gradually spread within Misumi whenever he had Chikage all to himself. It hadn't been that way at first, and that was how Misumi knew it wasn't physical or chemical. He really liked Chikage for who he was, even if that was sometimes a grumpy, jaded work horse who obviously had some secrets. The mystery was part of the fun...

And then, there was the spice. Misumi was sure there was something exciting lurking in Chikage and he longed to draw it out and see just what form in might take. He was starting to get a taste for spice after so many meals with Chikage...

So why were they waiting? Why weren't they kissing right now, or better yet...?

Misumi gasped out loud, whirling around to face Chikage who was still sitting off to the side, silently watching Misumi while he chattered away about everything but what was really bothering him...

"What's his name?"

"Hm? What?"

"His name. What is it?"

"Whose name? What are you talking about?"

"The person I remind you of. The reason I can't kiss you."

"That's not what I said..." Chikage frowned, then shook the expression off, ever so slightly. "His name was August."

"August..." Misumi sounded the name out on his tongue for a moment. It was a lovely name. Taking a deep breath, he looked directly into Chikage's eyes, leaned closer, and said clearly, "I'm not August...and I'm not trying to take his place." Chikage stared back, his expression giving away nothing. "He's gone, isn't he? And you're still hurting. You think I kissed you because I felt sorry for you or something...but I don't. Whatever you had with August, I think it must have been really wonderful, and something worth remembering. If I had something like that, I wouldn't want to forget it in somebody else, either." Thinking of Tenma, Misumi felt a touch of sadness for what might have been.

"I'm not afraid I'll forget August," Chikage said, so softly Misumi found himself leaning even closer. "I just don't want to sleep with you for the wrong reasons. I shouldn't be thinking about August when... Sorry. I'm getting ahead of myself. I think it's time I—"

"Don't go."

Misumi could be patient when it really mattered. Unless it involved really tempting triangles, he could wait for food, he could wait for his turn to go out on stage and say his lines, and he could wait for someone he cared about to be brave...but he didn't think that was the problem. If Chikage was thinking about sleeping with him... If that was what he wanted... If he really wasn't worried about his old love... Then it was Misumi he was worried about. He didn't think Misumi was ready.

He was half right. But he was half wrong, too. Misumi had been ready from the moment he told Chikage the story that nobody else knew. When he'd kissed Chikage, he'd known he was playing on the man's feelings for someone else, but after feeling so sad and so lonely for so long, he hoped to share something with Chikage that made them both feel a little more whole. He understood that it wasn't necessarily that easy, but what did it matter why they came together if it helped them both to heal?

"Don't go," he begged again, reaching out to grasp Chikage's sleeve and hold onto it as the man tried to rise despite his pleas. His hand slipped from the material to catch Chikage's and he squeezed, feeling Chikage's fingers answer in kind. "Don't," he whispered. Chikage settled back down. "Stay."

Maybe, in some other language, the sounds and syllables that made up the word "Stay" meant "Kiss me." Misumi fancied as much as Chikage leaned toward him as if compelled by magic, and captured his lips in a soft, possessive kiss that muted all his fears and insecurities. Grasping at the sexy, older man's clothing, Misumi imagined for a moment that he was kissing the man he had loved in his youth...but it did nothing for him. That man meant nothing to him anymore...not like Chikage had come to. It was Chikage who was kissing him, whose hands were climbing slowly up his arms, as if hesitant to hold him in case he dissipated in a puff of smoke. It was Chikage who made him feel warm and happy...and desirable.

For the first time in a very, very long time, Misumi felt all of the walls and facades slip away. He felt himself living fully in the moment, and not in the fantasy of what he wanted life to be. Even with Tenma, there had been an element of fantasy, especially with the shield of the script they had been acting out between them... This was different. This was just Chikage being raw and honest, and asking the same of him. As much as that terrified Misumi, it also felt freeing.

"I've never had something like what you had with August," Misumi whispered, drawing back and glancing bashfully through his lashes at Chikage to gauge the man's response. "But I hope... I hope I can."

"Wouldn't you rather have that with someone... I don't know. Someone kinder, or brighter... Someone with a positive outlook, who isn't jaded and grumpy, and—"

"Sexy, and cheeky, and smart, and clever...experienced... Someone I can talk to, who listens to me and brings out parts of me I thought I'd lost..."

"What if you're just confused? If I look like the first man you ever loved... A man who... Misumi, this isn't a good idea."

"Don't you dare! You don't get to decide what's right for me. Only I get to decide that! I'm not confused. I like you. It's got nothing to do with him. I just... I wanted you to know, to understand why I hide, sometimes. Why I'm not..."

His mouth gaping wide with un-uttered protest, Chikage slowly shut his jaw. His gaze softened, and instead of pulling away as he had been poised to do, he slowly reached up to cup Misumi's cheek, stemming the emotional rambling before Misumi could force himself to say things he shouldn't have to.

"You don't need to hide from me," Chikage promised. "I know it must scare you, to open up like you're doing now...especially to me...but I swear I'll never snap at you like that again. I don't...think I could." His eyes lowered for a second, then rose to meet Misumi's with new resolve. "I never thought I'd say this, but...you soothe me."

"Then trust me. When I say I know what I want... Trust me." There was desperation in that statement, but also hope.

"And that's me? What you want?" Chikage asked, sounding strangely breathless.

"That's you," Misumi affirmed.

He thought Chikage was going to kiss him properly at last, but yet again the man pulled away, shaking his head slightly and retreating into himself.

"I'm afraid I'll do something wrong. I'm not a gentle person by nature. I don't know how to be soft...and patient."

"That's okay," Misumi promised. "I like you as you are. You won't scare me. I know you now... I'm ready." He meant it. Chikage wasn't perfect, but as long as Misumi knew that, they'd work things out. He wasn't perfect, either. They both had some stuff to work on. He just wanted them to do it together.

Chikage let out a curt sigh. "We can take this slowly. We don't have to dive right—"

"We do, though," Misumi insisted. "Because I can't wait. I don't want to." He was afraid to, afraid to let this moment slip by and never return.

"Misumi, don't be—"

"I already know what I want, so now I need you to show me I can have that. Let me feel your skin and melt in your kisses, and... And..." Even Misumi had a line, upon the other side of which lay blushing embarrassment. "I don't have to say it, do I?" he mumbled.

"You don't have to say or do anything you don't want to," Chikage whispered, all soft and dandy once again.

Misumi couldn't get enough of that side of him. It made him play the innocent more often than not, hoping to be coddled and comforted.

"So if I do want to do something?" he asked, his shyness only partly an act.

"Then show me. Guide me. If I cross a line... Stop me. Can you do that?"

"I think so...but maybe I can tell you, too." Because Chikage had given in, definitively, and he hadn't even realized it yet.

"Good," Chikage murmured, finally pulling Misumi's face toward his own reaching lips.

*

For all that he was afraid that there was a line somewhere he couldn't see that he would charge across before ever being aware of its existence, things progressed fast from the moment Chikage capitulated, dominating Misumi's sweet mouth in a heavy kiss that slaked his thirst only as much as it created an even more desperate craving.

If Misumi could converse with cats and perform unlikely, death-defying maneuvers in mid-air, perhaps he also possessed the ability to charm, or to dream walk... Chikage would believe it. It was as if he had been dreaming of Misumi every night, and forgotten every one of those dreams upon waking, because it felt like he knew the contour of Misumi's lips, cheeks, arms, waist, hips, thighs, ankles, and everything in between. Once it began, there was no stopping it, and it felt impossibly comfortable and achingly familiar.

In spite of all of his resistance up to this point, his feelings were swelling rapidly with all of the excess he had tried to compress and discard. Instead, he had managed only the compression, packing away more and more feelings with a density beyond comprehension. When had he begun to feel such strong emotions again, let alone for this strange, fey creature? It hadn't begun with that fight... He could see that now. Was it the night he thought he saw Misumi plummet dangerously from the roof? Or was he fooling himself completely? Had he been so taken with Misumi onstage that he devised the whole failed plan to infiltrate the Mankai Company and deceive December all so he could get closer to the one who had caught his roving eye...?

It didn't matter. Whenever it had begun, he had not been ready to accept his feelings, nor to accept that Misumi could possibly share them. He did now. He had no choice. It was plain as day to the both of them.

Chikage was grateful for the surprising boldness Misumi displayed in taking control of their undressing and encouraging every escalation through his actions. He often wore an expression of bewildered enchantment so alluringly at odds with his adventurous conduct that Chikage almost felt as if he was dreaming still.

He felt the impact of the ground under him when he was mounted like a horse, his shoulders pushed down to the floor. He let the tension seep from him, as unaccustomed as he was to going without. Gazing up at Misumi made it seem easy, though... Like he'd done so a thousand times before. Like he would do so a thousand times again.

Misumi chuckled, working on Chikage's belt. "You look pretty like that."

Pretty? No one had ever called Chikage pretty. "Like what?"

"Like...you have no idea what's going to happen next."

Chikage chewed those words over in his head, feeling unequivocally exposed, and not because Misumi had his pants open and was tugging them down his thighs. Misumi was right. That was exactly how he felt. In theory, he knew what was supposedly going to happen, but he still couldn't picture it―couldn't believe he wasn't imagining the whole thing.

He wouldn't have imagined it like this, though. They would have been in a bed, for one, and Misumi would be acting like some sensual nymph. Chikage liked the real version better. All of Misumi's adorable mannerisms were on display, and he couldn't get enough. The way Misumi blushed faintly and tucked his hair back habitually in contrast with his proactive enthusiasm was far more fascinating than whatever Chikage's feeble imagination could have conjured.

"Tell me, if you want," he said, his voice surprisingly gruff. "Tell me what's going to happen." 

He was actually nervous. He could feel it now. How long had it been since he'd lowered his guard around anyone in any way? How long had it been since he'd felt vulnerable?

"I'm going to get some lube," Misumi explained, as matter-of-factly as he could wearing the hint of an impish grin. He was working through his embarrassment with admirable success. "Then, I'm going so stretch myself out a bit... Unless you want to?"

Chikage's mouth went dry.

"Would you?"

He found himself nodding.

"Good. I'd like that. Then... Then I'm going to kiss you really deeply while I sit real slowly down until you're filling me up all the way...and then I'm going to ride you. You can take over if you want...but I like it that way, at least to start. I have a lot of energy, you know." Chikage was nodding almost chronically. "How does that sound?"

"It sounds...like you're all in. So I am, too."

It really was absurd to be surprised that Misumi's lube came in a pyramid-shaped hand-pump bottle. Chikage should have been expecting it, but it caught him off guard and he started chuckling, his nerves trickling out with the laughter.

"Give me that," he said, taking the bottle from Misumi's outstretched hands and pumping some oil onto his palm. He rubbed his hands together, folding it between and around his fingers, and then pumped again, really slicking up the fingers he was about to put to work.

If he thought about it, he might have realized there had been rather little foreplay and a lot of feelings in the balance, but he wasn't on top of his observational game, and by the state of Misumi's arousal, he didn't require much. Chikage would learn to appreciate that willing readiness once he cottoned onto it, but for the time being, he was preoccupied with settling Misumi over his chest and massaging his way inside that tight hole he had been avoiding thinking about for longer than he cared to admit.

Misumi was incredibly responsive, and tight enough to entice, but not impossibly so. He was no stranger to the sensation of fingers wriggling and moving inside of him, and his eager reactions caused Chikage's breath to hitch and his naked cock to throb.

"Mmm, that's good," Misumi moaned.

"On a scale of scalene to equilateral...?" Chikage teased, rubbing the pads of his fingers down Misumi's inner walls in tandem.

Letting out a slow, roughly voiced breath, Misumi opened his eyes, gazed soulfully into Chikage's, and said, "Isosceles."

But what Chikage heard was, "I kinda sorta love you."

"Isosceles," he breathed back, withdrawing his fingers and urging Misumi to bend to kiss him.

When they surfaced for breath, Chikage was flat on his back once more, and Misumi had wriggled down to perch atop his hips. The young man straightened up, and then smoothly started easing his body down, taking Chikage into him with an oddly intense focus and determination.

Chikage, who was the word for word definition of calculated caution, lost himself in the moment; in the pleasure, and in the sheer wonder at all that was Misumi. His nerves dissolved in heat and friction, his voice streaming out in groans and moans that gave away far too much for his liking—but he was too far gone to care.

*

Misumi felt wonderful, not just physically, but in other ways as well. He felt powerful, leaning over Chikage and controlling the pace and rhythm of their motion. He felt appreciated, having been let in at last, and seeing a Chikage no one else at Mankai could even imagine. He felt relieved, no longer worrying and wondering if his feelings were reciprocated. He felt a little avenged even, after the heartache of his brief, ill-fated fling with Tenma.

That had been fun, but it wasn't meant to be. Tenma was happy and fulfilled with someone else, and Misumi... Misumi was starting to think he could have all that, too.

Chikage fit inside him with a perfection that rubbed him up all the right ways. As he moved, his skin flushed and rippled with waves of tingles. They breathed in sync, and when he bent down to smush their lips together while his hips rolled of their own accord, there was no awkward bashing of teeth or biting of tongues, just Chikage's lips, ready and waiting to meet his. As a result, one kiss became two, and two became three, and then three morphed back into one long kiss that brought Misumi's body down to Chikage's as they made out heavily, their hips undulating together.

Control passed from Misumi's hands into some kind of mutual, shared instinct, whereby both and neither of them were in charge, all at once. Misumi couldn't say why he trusted Chikage so wholly and easily, not after how things had started out between them. He simply did. It was instinctive rather than logical. Misumi didn't think he could bring himself to distrust Chikage if he tried. Perhaps it was the trust Chikage was showing him, and the fact that it was just as difficult for the mysterious, closed-off newcomer to trust as it was for Misumi. They had that in common.

As both of them lowered the shields of false cheer or cold apathy in turn, they seemed to meld into one another as though their physical interaction were metaphorical. Who knew metaphors could feel so damn good?

After an eternity of wallowing in the magical limbo of lovemaking, Misumi's body eventually began to assert its needs, delivering to him a list of demands. It demanded to be petted and to have its nipples pinched, it demanded he sit up take in some actual air, and it demanded that he move; really move.

Chikage was no passenger, along for the ride, either. Once Misumi began riding him with the clear intention of wringing every drop of emotion from them both with physical evidence, he sat part-way up himself, supported Misumi's hips, and lifted his own, thrusting with pointed accuracy and timing.

Soon, Misumi was coated in a fine sheen of sweat and trembling minutely with the rise of his pleasure. When Chikage pulled him in for a kiss, he went with a gasp, letting himself be bounced and jostled as Chikage's hips worked and their mouths bumped and parted. It was a little rough, but in an exciting way that made Misumi ache for Chikage to assert a little more authority. He got his wish, soon winding up on his back with Chikage looming over him, his legs wrapped around the man's slim waist.

"Is this—?"

"Don't stop!" Misumi begged, almost keening with frustration when Chikage paused to speak.

With a growl, Chikage thrust deep, his shadow climbing up over Misumi's face before receding and letting the light flood eyes that squeezed tightly shut. Misumi grabbed at Chikage's arms and tightened the pull of his legs, crying out as he was filled to bursting and struck with a pang of ecstasy from within.

A memory rose up within him, one he didn't want, but it didn't hurt him. Instead, it melded with this new experience, Chikage's face and caring manner overshadowing that of a man Misumi wasn't sure he would even recognize now. The fear that briefly knotted in his belly was released in a wave of release that spread tingles throughout his every nerve. He even remembered the hot rush of Tenma doing him up against the mirrors, and forgot that in the rush of pleasure and wonder as Chikage filled him and receded over and over again like the tide, cresting on the sands, seeping into them, leaving them wetter every time until the sand was as sodden with water as the sea itself. Misumi wasn't sure if he was the sand or the sea anymore, because Chikage was there, throughout him, flooding all of his memories and revitalizing him, all at once.

The triangular shapes that filled his vision when he was swept under completely were infinite and overlapping, triangles within triangles, within Chikage... Until Misumi finally surfaced again, breathing heavily and blinking back the bright haze of light in his eyes that was soon replaced with Chikage's shadow and handsome face.

Misumi reached up, touching a cheek that was softer and rounder than it seemed with the rim of Chikage's glasses always seated upon it. He smiled, but he couldn't think of anything worth saying, and closed his eyes again, melting into the floor. He didn't even move when Chikage picked him up and carried him to one of the chairs, sweeping aside the big, rice ball pillow and collapsing into the cushy recesses of the seat.

"You're all sweaty," Misumi complained.

"I'll buy you new upholstery," Chikage sighed, holding Misumi tightly against his chest and resting his chin on one heaving shoulder.

"You'd do that for me?" Misumi asked, nuzzling his cheek against Chikage's.

"I'm beginning to suspect I would do anything for you," Chikage said softly. "You're my triangle."

Misumi was so happy and content, he fell asleep right there in Chikage's arms, dreaming of triangles on the sand, and onigiri beach picnics with his new boyfriend.

*

Chikage was afraid. It was a very unnatural feeling for him, but one he now felt was not entirely terrible. Fear meant that he had something to lose, and that was something he hadn't had in a long time. For the first time since he had joined the company, Mankai was beginning to feel like home.

Furthermore, all of Chikage's clearly defined boundaries had been blown apart, and he was beginning to lose himself in Misumi in ways he never had done with August, and that truly scared him... But he was also a little excited to find out what it might lead to, as long as Misumi was a part of his future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that the hard part's out of the way, there's more to come in a more timely fashion!


	2. The Nuclear Option

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omi/Kumon
> 
> Just as Omi's on the verge of heartbreak, the company's newest rookie comes along to save the day, but there's just one thing standing in their way...and he's a doozy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A holiday gift for my dear readers! Who knew this would get done so fast! Unlike Chikage and Misumi who took forever to get together, these two just could not keep their hands off of each other. lol I think this chapter is record speed for this fic.

It wasn't that Omi was jealous. Why would he be jealous of someone at constant odds with the guy he had feelings for? That would be a waste of good emotion. So, no, he wasn't jealous of Banri. Even though he knew all that sniping probably led to something red-hot and wild in the bedroom... That didn't make him jealous, either. Omi wasn't the wild type. He liked a long, slow burn, with endless kisses and the erotic caress of muscles sliding and writhing against his own...

He really needed to stop thinking about such things... When he did, he remembered being with Nachi, and his world felt smaller and emptier. Then, he thought about Juza to widen it back up again, and the thought of sharing with Juza what he'd shared with Nachi threatened to burn him up with desire...until he remembered that Juza was already sharing those things. With Banri.

It wasn't obvious, at first. Sure, everyone could sense the sexual tension between them, but they all just assumed Juza and Banri were totally oblivious to it. Then, there were incidents, like the sounds of making-out in the bath just before one entered, or the deep, sultry tones their arguing sometimes took on... Omi wasn't blind. 

He also wasn't jealous. When he was cold to Banri, it was because the leader of his troop was being unnecessarily cruel towards Juza, and that made him angry. How could someone be with a guy that sweet and sexy, and still treat him like gutter trash to wiped off the bottom of a shoe? Omi would kill to be so lucky!

It was Nachi's voice, the one that floated in the back of his mind like a conscience sometimes, that pointed out how very like jealousy Omi's train of thought sounded... So he packed it under a few tons of flower and baked a catering's worth of confections until the voice went away and he could only hear his own thoughts again.

That was how events progressed for quite some time... And then Omi's world was rocked and shaken. Eventually, he could no longer deny his own jealousy...but by then, he wasn't alone in it.

*

"So your little bro is off limits, huh?" Banri drawled, watching Kumon and Muku kicking a ball around while he and Juza sucked on juice pops.

"You can't touch him," Juza deadpanned.

Banri snorted, shooting a sideways glance at the deceptively gentle giant. "Better me than you."

"I ain't touchin' him, neither," Juza agreed.

That was probably for the best... "But...Muku can touch him," Banri clarified.

"Muku's an angel. He can do what he wants," said Juza, blinded by love, as usual.

"...Dude. Maybe the fallen kind," Banri muttered, but it fell on deaf ears, because Kumon was running toward them, beaming an immense grin that implied Juza was about to melt into a gooey puddle of brotherly mush.

It wasn't that Banri resented that transformation or anything... It was just weird as hell to watch Juza transform like that. Banri had gotten used to a sweeter, more passionate side of his rival when it came to Muku, but that was nothing compared to the transformative power of Hyodor the Second.

It couldn't be more obvious to Banri that all the cooing coddling meant Kumon adored his big brother just as much if not more, and now that Kumon was going to be living with them, Banri couldn't help wondering how he was going to take Juza's rather active sex life once he inevitably found out. Banri would just have to keep an eye out for red flags and make sure to not be around when the fireworks went rogue.

As Kumon dragged Juza into the impromptu, rule-loose soccer game, Omi tagged out and took a seat ext to Banri, wiping his face with the towel around his neck. He looked pretty sexy like that, all sweaty, his rugged scar contrasting that wholesome, athletic appeal...

He was also making ridiculously obvious googly eyes at someone... Following his line of sight, Banri wracked his brains for signs and slowly put the pieces together.

At first, he'd thought Omi was just being protective of the sweet imbecile who loved his baking so damn much, but recently, he'd started to feel like Omi was hating on him for something, and it was beginning to wear pretty thin. Now, finally, he had a clue as to why. As Juza continuously put the ball in Kumon's possession, as if he was there solely for the purpose of backing up his little brother, Omi's grin grew steadily wider, his eyes following the older Hyodo brother around the courtyard like they were locked on target.

"Oh, shit. You got the hots for Hyodo," Banri blurted out, just loudly enough for Omi to hear and double take at him, as if his presence hadn't even registered until he spoke.

Instead of responding to the assessment, Omi frowned. "Why do you still call him that?" he asked quietly, as if personally saddened by the slight. "Why do you still treat him that way?"

Banri shifted uncomfortably. "What? Why wouldn't I?" he grumbled, avoiding Omi's critical gaze and watching the ball zip around from foot to foot.

"Aren't you two together?" Omi pressed, keeping his voice low, though it was laden with plenty of judgement. "Don't you feel something for him? Other than a hard-on?"

"Shit, man..." Banri's eyes dropped to his knees where he folded his hands, trapping them there, as if to trap his instinct to lash out. Omi was his friend, and if he knew about Banri and Juza sleeping together, he must be pretty hurt. "S'not like that."

"Then what is it like?" Omi all-but growled, clearly beginning to lose his cool. "Please, tell me, because I just don't seem to get it."

"Hyodo and I aren't..." Banri stopped, stilled his tongue, clucked it, and tried again. "Like, that's not even a thing. 'Hyodo and I...'" He glanced up, his eyes falling on Muku, and quickly did the math to decide whether he thought Omi knew about that side of things or not. "Look. It's really casual with us, okay?" He looked up at Omi, who was trying to bore holes through him with eye lasers or something. He just hoped the sympathy and respect he thought he was projecting was visible past the glare. "But that's partly cause... Cause he's..." No, no way. Banri couldn't tell him. It was gonna rip a hole in him. "Look, the thing is, if you wanna go for it, I ain't gonna stop ya. But I don't know if you're up for the whole package."

Up came the towel again, dabbing at sweat that wasn't there, covering Omi's mouth, hiding his expression. Eventually, he lowered it, his face the definition of deadpan. "You mean... You?"

Banri blinked, surprised by the conclusion. He shouldn't have been. It made sense, considering Omi didn't know about Muku, but still. It was a weird thought. "Not even. Not that I'd pass on ya or anything. It's just..." This was already beyond awkward, and Banri was already tired of it. It wasn't his place, or his battle, really... Time to dip out. "Hyodo's crazy for someone else, and I'm just the third wheel. It's fun. No strings... Except occasionally a leash..."

Omi's eyes narrowed, cutting off the dissembling babble. "Who?"

Banri scrunched up his face in a direct expression of how he was feeling, being cornered that way. "I really don't wanna be the one to tell ya, man. Actually, I don't think I should be. Can't ya just ask Hyodo?"

"Absolutely not," Omu snapped. "Just tell me, Banri. Wait..." His eyes widened almost comically, and all his attempts at hiding his emotions fizzled into thin air as shock scribbled itself all over his features. "It's not the director, is it?"

Banri couldn't help it. It was such an innocent assumption he laughed out loud. "Hah! Not even close! Shit..." Someone was going to have to disillusion Omi, and as much as Banri didn't want to be the one, he figured someone else might be a lot more critical about it, and probably way less tactful... "Okay, fine... But I warned you..."

"Get on with it," insisted an exasperated Omi.

"Muku."

"What? No, I mean tell me who Juza's—"

"S'what I'm saying," Banri pleaded—pleading, because he needed Omi to understand, and to keep his reaction under control so as not to make a scene right there in the courtyard. He lowered his voice until he was whispering almost conspicuously, feeling as though the whole world could hear him, even though that was impossible with Kumon whooping excitedly and Juza and Muku cheering him on. "It's Muku. They're like fuckin' rabbits, man. At it all the goddamn time, I swear. Half the reason I'm in on it's cause they're in my room, keeping me awake, anyway. May as well get some action."

There was a long, nerve-wracking pause while Omi stared him down, and Banri felt that occasional, ominous sense of being prey to a vicious, prowling wolf. 

"I swear to god, Banri, if you're screwing with me..." 

Relieved, Banri forced his paralyzed throat to work a little too soon, so that his voice came out on a squeak. "Dude, I'm not. I wouldn't. You obviously really like him. That wouldn't be funny."

*

It's not an easy thing to admit to yourself you've been wrong. From the moment that he realized—assumed, really—that Juza and Banri were together, Omi had started growing increasingly antagonistic toward Banri, who he saw as taking advantage of the sweet, innocent Juza, and corrupting him.

The irony was, it was Juza's resemblance to Nachi that first endeared him to Omi, and that should have been the first clue. There had never been anything innocent about Nachi—except for his pure, genuine love for acting, anyway. Aside from that, he was a dirty, kinky beast in bed, and he and Omi had discovered all sorts of things about sex and themselves together. But you wouldn't have known that to look at Nachi. He might have been a dangerous gang-leader, but he had this wholesomeness about him that was deceptive, even to those who knew him. Juza had that, too. Maybe it was just his lack of conventional smarts that made him come off as naive and innocent, but it got to Omi...and made him see things that weren't there.

Banri wasn't the bad guy. He hadn't said all that much, but Omi could see he was struggling in some way, himself. He clearly wasn't in love with Juza—or Muku, for that matter—but he wasn't exactly in the dream relationship Omi had fabricated in his head, either.

Watching as Muku launched himself at Juza for a celebratory hug as the ball travelled between two tables designated as a goal, Omi wondered that he'd never seen it before. The cousins were so close, and often extremely physical with one another... But that was just it. They were cousins. Nobody questioned their closeness, because they were family. As soon as that had been revealed, the two started spending more and more time together, and sitting beside one another all the time, or teaming up together for any group activities, etc... It simply made sense.

Then again, Omi couldn't think of another pair of cousins he'd ever seen holding hands or leaning all over each other... He couldn't think of another pair of cousins whose eyes lit up when they saw one another... He couldn't think of another pair of cousins who were so like lovers they would be assumed dating by anyone who didn't know they were family. It was the perfect cover.

All of a sudden, Banri's assertion that he was just a third wheel in what was likely a pre-existing relationship seemed perfectly legitimate. It explained why he and Juza seemed more physically comfortable around one another these days, but weren't particularly sentimental with each other. They fought a little more on some things, and a little less on others. The dynamic had definitely changed between them... But in retrospect, it was the dynamic of lovers, not people in love—like Juza and Muku.

"Hey, man... Are you okay?" Banri asked hesitantly, flinching when Omi's eyes turned back on him.

Checking himself, Omi dredged up a weak smile. "Yeah. Sorry. Actually... Sorry. For real. I haven't been fair to you."

"It's cool," Banri hurried to say. "I get it. But, uh... You're not gonna... You know. Tell anyone, or bring it up with Juza or nothing, are you...?"

Omi shook his head, but then he reconsidered. He wasn't going to tell anyone. That wasn't his place. Still, he couldn't really say he approved of the cousins sleeping together, or of fooling around with Banri on the side, for that matter, and... It wasn't any of his business, though. He was just some guy who had feelings for Juza, not a lover, not family... "I don't know," he muttered, mostly to himself. Banri shifted uncomfortably, and he felt bad, so he made an effort to put his friend at ease. "I won't make a thing out of it," he conceded. "But I can't promise I won't bring it up with either of them. I don't really understand...and I want to...but I don't know. I don't know if I have the courage to talk to them about it."

"Yeah, just... Give it some time, man," Banri suggested, a tad nervously. 

It was understandable. He'd broken his lovers' confidence by telling, and that was on Omi for pressuring him. He probably felt pretty awkward about the whole thing.

"It's fine, Banri," Omi reassured him, his eyes back on the couple. "I just have to think things through a bit."

"Yeah, 'kay. Well, I'm outta here. Tsumugi wants to check out a library cafe with a bunch of scripts to read."

As Banri retreated, Omi's focus fell on the younger Hyodo, who seemed brightly oblivious to the whole ordeal. He was a bundle of cheer, seeming to be thrilled to hang out with his big brother and his darling cousin. They made the perfect picture of a happy family, playing ball against Tasuku, Kazunari, and Tsuzuru. It was almost sweet.

Then, Muku scored a goal and Juza patted him on the back, his hand lingering and sliding down just a little bit in a caress Omi now recognized as truly intimate. That was when he saw the hint of recognition in Kumon's eyes as the boy turned away, a faint splash of red across his cheeks that didn't add up with his athleticism as a result of running around so much. It just might be that he knew, and was as conflicted about the couple as Omi.

"It's getting a bit dark," commented Tsuzuru, looking up at the sky, which was indeed beginning to take on a shadowy hue. "Maybe it's time to head in."

"Dibs on the bath!" shouted Kazunari, grinning from ear to ear.

"Help yourself. I'm gonna head right to the gym and do a proper workout," said Tasuku. "May as well capitalize on the warmup."

"Damn, Tasuku... Well, then, why don't we take it in pairs?" Tsuzuru suggested, looking around at their numbers. "That okay with everyone?"

"Yeah, sure. You two go ahead," Omi agreed. "Thanks for handling dinner tonight, by the way."

"No need to thank me," Tsuzuru said, humbly. "You cook most of the time. It's the least I can do. Anyway, better get going so I can start heating stuff up."

The four remaining players, Omi included, spent some time kicking the ball between them to keep warm, until Kazunari walked by, towelling off his hair and giving them the all clear for the next pair.

"You wanna go with me?" Juza asked the cheerful youngster who was trying to balance the ball on top of his foot.

Though he beamed in direct response to the question, Kumon quickly made a face, his eyes sliding ever so briefly toward Muku as the ball rolled off, though he was standing at such an angle, only Omi could see it.

"Nah. You fart too much, bro. You and Muku can go next. I'll go last, with Omi. If that's cool with you?" Kumon belatedly asked, glancing uncertainly over at Omi.

Putting on his warmest smile, Omi agreed. Kumon was clearly avoiding being alone with his brother, maybe to avoid any awkward conversation, or to avoid coming between the two lovers, or for any one of a million possible reasons. Omi wasn't going to make things hard on him, whatever his motives.

"Sure. Just don' take too long, you two," Omi cautioned. "Don't want little Kumon to catch a cold."

"Little Kumon will be just fine," argued the youngest member of the group. "Little Omi, though, will need a warm bath soon."

Omi almost blushed, wondering if Kumon was being cute and contrary, or if he was referring to a part of Omi's anatomy. He had to fight the blush harder when he saw Juza gazing at him with those big, naive eyes.

"You sure you don't wanna go first, Omi Senpai?" he asked.

Omi shook his head. For one, he was going to need a moment to fight down something other than a blush that was rising under Juza's scrutiny and Kumon's comment. For another... "If we go last, we get to take our time and relax," he said. That was true, but more importantly, if Juza and Muku went before them, the complicated couple wouldn't have time for impropriety and Omi wouldn't have to think about what they might be getting up to in there... "Anyway, dinner's on Tsuruzu tonight, so I wouldn't mind taking my time for a change."

*

As he climbed into the bath after washing off all the sweat and grime of their active afternoon, Kumon sighed in relief. The heat sank right into his muscles, making him feel light and airy. Already, some of the tiredness seeped from him.

He peered through eyes he was pretending to keep closed, just peeking through his lashes as Omi sawed a towel between his shoulder blades before sending another stream down his back from the shower head. He had a gorgeous back, like a clay model of valleys and mountain ranges, all that muscle bunching and spreading as he moved... And the scars... Kumon really wanted to take a good look up close, but he didn't think he could get away with that. Omi was pretty observant, unlike Juza.

It was a good thing Kumon was safely ensconced under the water, his knees drawn up toward his chest by the time Omi stood up and walked over to the bath, slowly stepping in and wading over to a corner where he sprawled contentedly, his long legs stretching out under the surface. Even limp, the big, juicy thing between his thighs had swayed as he walked, causing Kumon's cheeks to flame as his own, far less substantial manhood swelled in response. Little Omi was not so little at all.

He bit his tongue, afraid to say a word, lest he blurt out something stupid. Better that he just stayed still and waited for his erection to go away. All he had to do was outlast Omi. If Omi got out and dried off first, he never had to see how hard he was making Kumon just by existing.

Kumon liked to think he was pretty smart, but he really hadn't thought things through when he volunteered to bathe with Omi. Not that it would he would have been any less horny bathing with Juza, but at least Juza would just shrug it off as his healthy, young hormones. Juza used to get horny all the time when they bathed together before he left home. He'd told Kumon it was totally normal and not to worry about it. He wouldn't have minded.

Omi might mind, though. Kumon didn't think it was as normal as Juza said it was. Juza was just a total hornbag. Obviously, it ran in the family.

A noise from the changing area caught Kumon's attention, and he gazed in that direction, staring for far too long and blushing again. Were they still in there? Just what the hell were they getting up to? They knew he was right there, in the bath, and Omi, too. Was this what they were like around the dorm all the time? It was a wonder the whole company didn't know about them. Or maybe they did.

Realizing that Omi was staring at him, and not at the doorway, Kumon lowered his eyes to the surface of the water, trying not to give too much away. He didn't have a clue what Omi did or didn't know.

"What?" he asked, his eyes darting up to meet Omi's. He couldn't read someone if he wasn't looking at them.

Omi looked extremely uncomfortable, and if Kumon wasn't mistaken, he was blushing, too. No way was a big guy like that already feeling the heat of the bath enough to turn red in the face.

When Omi spoke, it was with a shyness that didn't quite suit him. "I was just...wondering...if you..."

Kumon sighed. Okay, so maybe everyone did know. "Know about Juza and my cuz?" he asked, dryly. At least that could be taken other ways if he was wrong.

"I guess you do," Omi said, looking away at the showers and confirming Kumon's suspicion. "Does it bother you?" he asked, eyes still averted.

"What, that they're gay?" Kumon asked, beginning with what he considered to be the lighter issue, and a good way to judge Omi's leanings.

"Huh? Oh... Yeah, I guess that's the logical place to start..." It didn't even seem to have occurred to Omi to be bothered about that, by which Kumon guessed he shared their mutual proclivity.

"Not really." Kumon shrugged. "I always knew Juza preferred guys. Way before he did, anyway."

"But you're younger than he is."

"Also smarter. Like, way smarter."

"Haha. I guess that's true..." Omi seemed to relax a little, grinning and shifting under the water. "I was gonna say... Does it bother you that they're your family...? I mean, both of them...and all..."

Did it bother Kumon that Juza and Muku were together? Sure, but not for that reason. At least, not as much for that reason. It would be a bit hypocritical of him to condemn them for it.

"It's kinda hard to be upset when they're super happy together," he said, diplomatically.

"Is it?" Omi cocked his head, a skeptical crease forming between his brows like a deep pit. "Sorry. It's just... You do seem kinda bummed."

Kumon couldn't argue with that. He was bummed. He refused to let Juza see it, so as soon as his brother was out of the way, his hurt sometimes caught him by surprise a bit. Omi really was observant. He also seemed sympathetic, though, and open-minded, and wise enough to talk to. Kumon really wouldn't mind having someone to talk to.

"Hey, Omi...?" The older man made an encouraging sound that gave Kumon heart. "Would it be super weird if I said... If I said my big bro is totally my type?" That was one way to put it, and true enough.

Omi took a beat before responding, but when he did, his voice was light and non-judgemental. "You mean, the kind of guy you like? I mean...if you like guys, that is."

"Mhmm... Yeah," Kumon agreed, feeling the blush picking back up again. Damn his open book face.

"I dunno." Omi considered it for a second, then rolled his shoulders in a kind of shrug. "I don't think it's that weird." He looked up at the ceiling, letting his body float, his legs coming up, though his hips remained disappointingly anchored toward the bottom of the bath. "Seems pretty normal to me, actually. He's your big brother. You look up to him. Why wouldn't you find a guy like him appealing?"

"Oh..." Kumon hadn't thought about it like that, before, as though he wasn't the first younger brother to face this problem.

"Just don't tell Tsuzuru I said that. He'd probably freak," Omi said with a chuckle.

"He has, like, a million little brothers, right?"

"Something like that."

Actually, the way Omi put it was really appropriate, because he was right. It wasn't just Juza Kumon was turned on by, it was guys with the same kinds of physical features and even personality traits as Kumon's big brother. In fact, Omi was one of the hottest, sweetest guys Kumon had ever met, next to Juza. He'd instantly made an impression on Kumon, the first time he stepped out onstage when the family went to watch Juza's acting debut. Kumon had found himself thinking about Omi now and again after that...

He wanted Omi to know that, but he also wanted to know if Omi might be even a little tempted to go for a guy like himself. He knew he couldn't hold a candle to Juza, and he wouldn't blame Omi for thinking he was an underdeveloped pipsqueak, especially considering how Omi kept making eyes at Juza... But as much as it might hurt to find out, Kumon was too curious not to try.

"So... I guess we have the same type, then..." Kumon said, staying low in the water as he made his way over to one of the walls that made up Omi's little corner nook.

"Oh... You mean...Juza?"

Oh, yeah. Omi was reading all the right signs.

"I mean big, strong, imposing..."

Drawing his long legs in a bit, Omi sat up some, but he turned his body a little toward Kumon, whose eyes wandered over some of the little nicks and lines that decorated Omi's chest and abs, right down to the water line.

"Actually, what I like best about Juza isn't his strength, or his body... It's his heart," Omi said, with quiet feeling. "He has the power to mow people down to get wherever he wants to go...but he chooses not to. He's honestly the sweetest person I've ever met. I wish I could be more like him."

"You do...?" Kumon asked, incredulously. From what he had just heard, Omi might easily have been describing himself. "No, I just mean... You are. I mean, you're exactly like him in all those ways."

"Me?"

How could he possibly be that surprised?

"Yeah," Kumon enthused, sitting upright and forgetting to be self-conscious about how small and naked he was. "You're super sweet, and you're big, strong, and imposing, but you don't use your strength to hurt people. You're...a lot like Juza." Only at that last statement did Kumon lose steam, realizing what he was saying and remembering to be embarrassed.

"Hahaha! You make it sound like I'm your type!" Omi crowed.

Okay, so maybe there were worse times to realize you were already crushing hard on someone than when you were naked in the bath with them, talking about your brother and his incestuous relationship with your cousin, and how you go for exactly the type of guy your brother is while staring at this person who is of a very similar type, who just so happens to have a big fat crush on said brother. Also, maybe there weren't worse times at all. It was a hard call. 

The important thing was that Kumon had to get the hell out of that bath before he opened his mouth and said one more idiotic thing, but he couldn't. If he stood up, Omi was going to see he'd gotten hard again, so he had to make a strategic retreat first, just far enough that he could turn away and get out without Omi seeing his front.

He moved a little too rapidly, the water swishing and curling around him, pulling against him and making him lose his balance. He faltered, and Omi's hand shot out, steadying him by the arm and holding on.

"Kumon..."

Facing away, frozen like a deer in the headlights, Kumon felt the larger man approach. It was impossible not to feel that huge presence behind him, like a bear about to come down on him...

"Hey, you okay?" Omi asked, his other hand landing gently on Kumon's other arm, effectively pinning him, though there was no pressure to the touch at all.

Kumon nodded, holding his tongue. If he spoke, it could only come out in a humiliating squeak.

"Is this about Juza?" Omi asked, all sympathy, all caring.

Kumon closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Is it about me?" Omi asked.

His voice was so breathy and light, it could mean almost anything. Was he disgusted? Regretful? Sorry?

Interested?

"I know I'm just some stupid kid," Kumon said quietly, feeling echoes of his self-depreciating cousin in the words but unable to stop himself. "I know I'm tiny and pathetic, and nothing like Juza, and I know you like him. It's stupid. I know you couldn't possibly be attracted to someone like me, not compared to—"

"Nobody's comparing you to anybody," Omi interjected, solidly. He spun Kumon around easily, the water splashing around them. "Certainly not Juza. He's special, yeah...and I do like him... But you're special, too. You know that, right?"

Kumon nodded, his eyes downcast. Sure. He knew that. He couldn't deny knowing that. It didn't change the fact that Juza's type of special was more attractive than his type of special, and if Omi was into Juza's special, he probably wasn't into Kumon's.

"I don't know how to say this and make you believe me, and I probably shouldn't do what I'm thinking, because you're still pretty young, and it doesn't seem like a good idea...but I've never been one for listening to good ideas, so here goes..."

Kumon heard all of the words, and vaguely thought he understood them, but he obviously hadn't, because he was in no way prepared for Omi's mouth to come down on his, crushing their lips together, tongue squeezing past his guard and seeking out his own, almost bullying it into responding. Not that Kumon felt bullied. He felt...elated. 

It wasn't his first kiss. That had gone—probably unsurprisingly to anyone who knew his cousin and had ever read a BL manga—to Muku, who had used him for kissing practice the first time he ever read a kissing scene between two boys. That kiss hadn't filled him with elation. It had been nice... His tongue had tingled, and his lips had felt good, but this... This hit him in his core. It made him swell—both emotionally, and sexually. He clutched at Omi's body and held on for dear life as his body reacted and he practically swooned.

"Oh, shit," Omi gasped, bending to slip his arms under Kumon and lift him out of the water, carrying him over to the rim of the bath and sitting him down, just his feet in the water.

Okay, so maybe the swooning was partially from the heat. Either way, Kumon refused to let go of Omi's big, strong shoulders, and the older man sank back down into the bath to even out their heights a little.

"You okay?" he asked, kindly.

"Oh my god, this is so embarrassing," Kumon moaned.

"Nah, this bath is pretty hot," Omi soothed. "And so was that kiss. I'm starting to get a bit lightheaded, myself."

"You should probably get out," Kumon suggested, swallowing his shame.

"I should," Omi agreed. "But promise me one thing." Kumon nodded. "Don't judge me, okay? It's been a while."

While Kumon was still puzzling through what Omi might mean by that, the large man began to emerge from the water, rivulets streaming down his gorgeous, toned muscles and down his thighs...right past a huge, angry hard-on, right there in Kumon's face.

"Holy crap," Kumon gasped.

Omi chuckled, but he sounded a little shy and moved a bit awkwardly, seating himself beside Kumon, stretching his legs out in the water.

"Sorry," he said.

"Yeah, don't be," Kumon responded dryly, all the more sorry for his comparatively small show of appreciation.

"This isn't something I'd normally admit so easily, but the way you were talking about yourself just now..." Omi took a deep breath, and then stared resolutely at the water as he spoke in a rush. "I guess I should start by telling you we don't have the same type at all. You know I like Juza, but like I said, it's not his body I'm into. He does look a lot like my friend, and my... My first love... But that's not why I like him. I like him because he has a big heart, and that's a quality you share, and... Shit. You're just...really cute. No, that's a good thing! I mean it! You're not as big as Juza, but you're still strong and athletic, and you have the same adorable sweetness about you, only with cleverness and wit, and... What I'm saying is, I like you. I'm not... You probably think, because I'm older, I know a lot about this sort of stuff, like I've been through it a thousand times, or something... But I haven't. I don't. At all. After Nachi died... My heart closed off for a long time, and it only started to open up again after I found this new family here at Mankai. Juza was a part of that, and I've had a crush on him for a while now, but... The truth is, I've hesitated so long, I don't know who I am, or what I want. I have a feeling this kind of thing could happen to me a lot from now on...but not like this. Not like this at all."

"What do you mean?"

"Look at me, I'm a babbling idiot with a woody the size of a tree right now. Juza didn't do that... Hell. Juza's never done that. That's all you."

Kumon was afraid to breath out, as if it would break some sort of spell and undo everything Omi just said. "But we hardly know each other," he finally said on a gush of breath, once he couldn't hold it in any longer.

"So why do I feel like I've known you for years already?" Omi asked, smiling a little goofily. "Is that just me?"

Kumon shook his head, even as he processed the question and his own answer. He did feel that to an extent. He felt comfortable with Omi, like he could talk about anything—already had done, in fact. He wasn't shy about Omi's touch, either. Omi's arms had felt completely natural around him, and even though Omi was so much taller and thicker than he was, he didn't feel diminished or shadowed by the older man at all. Maybe that was because he'd grown up around Juza. It was a normal dynamic to him.

"I kind of feel that way, too, and... The truth is, I think I kind of like you. I mean... Really like you. So... What now?"

Omi's eyes roamed over Kumon's naked body in a way that made his face flame so hot he was sure his hair was smoldering, but then, Omi cleared his throat and stood up in the water, taking a couple of steps away and raking his hand through his hair. He looked gorgeous when he was flustered.

"I don't know," he confessed. "I mean, this thinks it does..." He gestured down at his crotch. "But it can't have what it wants. Not yet, anyway."

Kumon nodded, staring resolutely at the water because if he kept staring at the baseball bat swinging between Omi's thighs, his hair was going to burst into flames.

"I know I'm a lot younger than you," he began, trying to find a way to phrase this so as not to pose concern or anything. "But... I've seen a lot, already, and hell, I'm smarter than Juza was when he first... I'm not scared. I mean, maybe a little bit, seeing as how you're so huge and all, but... I know a lot." Kumon cleared his throat. "I grew up with Muku for a cousin."

Omi also cleared his throat, as if it were as contagious as yawning. "I...actually hadn't even thought about that. I was just thinking that Juza might actually murder me if I laid a hand on you without his permission."

He had a point. Kumon's mouth went dry as he looked up at Omi, thinking about that kiss. "He's never going to give it," he said quietly, suddenly seeing a very long and lonely future sprawling out before him because Juza was the most overprotective caveman on the Earth when it came to Kumon. He didn't even want Kumon at Mankai...and Kumon was staring to figure out why.

Omi wasn't fearless. He didn't puff up like a brave warrior and roar out his challenge, but he did look resolute. He moved close again, leaning down to take Kumon's face in his large hand. "Let me try," he said, kissing Kumon on the lips with none of the earlier passion, but with the soft warmth of a promise. His lips were surprisingly supple when the kiss was gentle enough to be savored.

A moment later, he lumbered out of the water and went to the shower, rinsing himself off. The towel that had been used to scrub his back was tied about his front, leaving his ass hanging out, but concealing his swinging boner, at least from the front.

As Kumon watched him go, throwing a kindly smile over his shoulder on the way out, he couldn't shake the image of Omi lying in his bed, beating that meat so hard he got chafe burns. Kumon didn't make it as far as his bed. He stumbled over to the shower and turned on the water, stroking himself to a swift and devastating climax that left him only partially sated and foreshadowed what his life was going to be like until Juza got on board or Omi decided to tempt the fates.

Groaning, he collapsed onto the little stool by the shower, squeezing and playing with himself to try and entice a little more out of the lingering arousal that plagued him. Muku would know what to do. He was like a guru with this stuff...

In fact, Muku might just be the answer to the core of the problem. If anyone could make Juza agree to anything, even letting Kumon get laid...it was Muku. Kumon needed to talk to him before Omi got up the courage to approach Juza.

*

"Ahuh, so let me get this straight... Omi kissed you? Like, full on, knee-buckling, spine-melting, head-spinning, world-ending made out with you?"

Kumon gulped, suddenly remembering everything on that list, his cheeks burning under Muku's elated stare. 

"Yes...?"

"Awww, man... RIPster, much? I really liked Omimi. I'll miss him... We should find out what kind of flowers he wants on his grave," joked Kazunari, his pencil continuing to scratch away at the paper as he colored and shaded a drawing Kumon had yet to lay eyes on.

"Not funny, Kaz," scolded Kumon, without much bite. "And not helpful."

"Yeah, but, I mean... He's not exactly wrong," pointed out the petite spaz who was Kumon's cousin. "Jyu-chan will end Omi for this."

"Okay, but can we turn down the drama, just a notch? I know this is a theater company and all, but we're not living in a play, here. Juza has to understand I'm going to grow up and meet people, and have sex, and—"

"Yeah, I'm gonna stop you at 'grow up,'" scoffed the hard-working artist. "I mean, that's the problem, isn't it? You're still his literal kid brother. It's basically his job to murder anyone who takes advantage of you."

Kumon bristled. "Omi's not taking advantage of me! He kissed me once, and then he put a stop to things right there and then, to talk to Juza first. Do you have any idea how hard that was? I mean... Hard, guys." He groaned. "Really, really hard."

"You? Or him?" teased Kazunari.

"Both!"

Not without sympathy, Muku shrugged. "If it was just a problem of Omi waiting respectfully until you were the right age... Well, for one thing, he'd probably die of old age before Juza would think you were old enough... But that's not the issue. The issue is that you're Juza's brother and he loves you, and he'll never, ever let anybody else get close enough to kiss you ever again, and that's all there is to it."

"Please, Muku! You've gotta do something!" Kumon begged, because he knew his cousin had the right of it. "You've gotta help me! I can't live my whole live like a cloistered eunuch just to make Juza happy!"

"Well, I do have one idea...but there's a chance it could backfire, so you'd have to be prepared for that..."

"Ooh, do tell!" prodded Kazunari, like an eager spectator of a painfully involved soapie.

When Muku cast a guilty glance over at his roommate, Kumon began to suspect. "Sorry, Kazu. Cousins only."

"Awww, come on! Spill! What's the big, dangerous plan?" cried Kazunari, pencils down along with all pretense of preoccupation.

The look in Muku's eyes was enough to convince Kumon he didn't want anyone else hearing what his pervert cousin had to say. He turned his best puppy-dog eyes on Kazunari.

"Hey... Could you check on Omi and make sure he doesn't do something stupid?"

"Oh, fine," Kazunari grumped. "But only 'cause I don't wanna see Omimi stand there like a punching bag and get his skull crushed."

Kumon didn't ask why that statement made Muku chuckle while his own throat was retreating down into his stomach. The imagery was far too vivid. Sure, Omi was built like an armored truck, and had cred, to boot, but few people had seen Juza when he was really, truly mad. Kumon had, because the two times it had happened was to bullies idiotic enough to target Juza's little brother.

In an effort to distract his mind, Kumon wandered over to Kazunari's desk and picked up the half-finished portrait once the artist had left. It was of Kumon, himself, and for some reason, it took his breath away.

The feel of Muku's arms winding around his waist, and a chin burrowing into his shoulder was nostalgic. He swayed back against his cousin, still mesmerized by the portrait.

"That's it," Muku murmured. "That's exactly the look. Damn, he's good."

"What look?"

"The look on your face when you're thinking about Omi's kiss."

No wonder the portrait made him self-conscious even as he was flattered and impressed by his likeness. He was an open book... Juza would know in a heartbeat.

"We'll make him see the alternative," Muku whispered, planting a kiss on Kumon's flaming cheek. "Because he'd never let you be alone forever. He wouldn't hold out that long."

"What are you talking about?" Kumon asked, though he suspected he already knew.

"Don't worry. He won't go through with it. Once he decides he's the greatest danger to you of all, Omi will look like a superhero swooping in to rescue you."

Too bad Kumon had always had a weakness for the villains... Then again, Omi had the rugged, anti-hero quality that had Kumon thirsting for Batman like a shriveled husk facing a deep lake in the desert. Muku was so good with analogies.

*

"That was so weird..." Juza muttered, closing the door carefully behind him before taking a step into his bedroom only to face something even weirder.

Up on his bed, Muku was kissing Kumon so tenderly, it was like they'd been at it for hours and still weren't in any rush. And they both just ignored him. Like it wasn't even embarrassing that he'd walked right in on his lover kissing his brother. Or, his cousin...kissing someone he... No.

Clearing his throat, Juza ducked under the loft bed, taking a seat at the wooden bench under there so he couldn't see what was going on. He could hear, though...soft slurping sounds, and suction noises, like when you broke the seal of the foil on a tub of pudding...

Had he thought it was weird to be accosted by Omi with a giant flan, looking nervous as hell, only to have Kaz hurtle into the kitchen, steal the dessert, and run off, daring Omi to chase him...? Well, yeah. Obviously. And frustrating, too. Than flan had looked so good...

But this took the flan, so to say. Should he have seen it coming? Wasn't the first time Muku had laid his hands on Kumon, not that it ever went too far, but... He and Muku hadn't been so close, then. They were kind of a thing, now, even with the weirdness of Banri in the mix, but... It worked, cause it was Banri. Juza wasn't sure he was ready to give Muku up to Kumon... Or, for that matter, Kumon up to... Nope.

"There was this flan..." he said, just to say something to give the boys a clue he was actually there, and not some figment of their imaginations that had gone away. No reaction. "It was huge. Looked really good..." A soft sigh and a catch of breath made him imagine Muku kissing Kumon's jaw and neck. Was it too hot? Should he turn on the aircon? It felt really hot... "You know what? I really want that flan. Gonna go find Omi..."

"No!"

Juza jumped, halfway through standing up, and nearly fell backward over the bench.

"I mean... S-sorry, bro... We just got a bit carried away. Hold on. I'm coming down."

"It's cool. You two just..." What? Carry on? Screw that. "Yeah. Get your asses down here."

It had seemed like a good idea at the time...until Kumon and Muku were standing before him, hair tousled, cheeks bright with color, lips flushed and a bit chaffed from all that kissing... Juza sat down heavily, weighed down by the anchor between his thighs. He gulped and slid his eyes to a point on the wall right between them, so he wasn't staring too hard at either of them. He could stare at Muku if he wanted to, but if he did that right now, he might just blow his load without even touching himself.

"Don't be mad," Muku crooned, walking over to and around him, rubbing his shoulder and leaning in. A weight at the top of Juza's skull told him Muku was kissing his head.

"Not mad," Juza barked, his voice so thick and gruff it really sounded like he was. He closed his eyes for a second and tried with all his might not to be so turned on. "I'm not. It's just...kinda weird. Weird day."

"It doesn't have to be weird," gushed Kumon, suddenly rushing over and sliding onto the bench beside Juza, taking his hand, which exploded with tingles that made his whole body want to shiver.

"Kyu-chan's getting older, you know, and he had all these questions about birds and bees, but I'm just a worm feeding off the slimy dirt under the world's ugliest rock who can't help himself, so I figured we could show him. Together. You'd like that wouldn't you?" The last was breathed erotically against Juza's ear as Muku's hand slid down his snail trail, creeping inside the waistband of his pants. 

"N-no." Juza shook his head, gripping the edge of the table hard. He bit his lip as Muku's fingertips just brushed the head of his cock, and then he did shiver, rather violently.

"No?"

Gasping, Juza glanced at his brother before he could help it. That tear-choked sound was his bane, and it bit deep, making him want to throw his arms about Kumon and squeeze him tight. The second he laid eyes on those big, round orbs, though... 

Kumon's pupils were dilated, and his skin was glowing with arousal. He was staring at Juza with such open desperation it ripped an involuntary moan from a constricted throat.

"Yes!" Juza gasped, incapable of lying to that sweet face.

"Yes...?" 

As Kumon loomed closer, hope scribbled all over his face, Juza found himself nodding minutely. "Y-yes..." he reiterated, moments before the warmth of Kumon's lips pressed against his, close-mouthed for several long seconds as his heart adjusted to the development.

When he was sure the fear of a heart-attack had passed, Juza hesitantly parted his lips, just a little, and found Kumon's far more responsive than he'd ever imagined, easily moved by the pressure of his lips, pried open, and accepting of the tongue tip Juza stretched out with nervous anticipation. Kumon had obviously had loads of kissing practice with Muku, and didn't show any signs of nervousness or reluctance, and before Juza knew it, his big, brutish tongue was plundering his little brother's mouth like a pirate hunting for treasure. 

All the while, Muku's fingers were teasing the tip of his cock with light touches that made him ooze with the building pressure. His belly and thighs were tight with restraint. He was on the verge of losing control completely... Throwing Kumon down on the table and ravishing him hard... He was terrified, and also beyond excited.

"Imagine," Muku whispered, "If you didn't have me to take the edge off all the time... Remember when you were Kumon's age, and you started getting hard pretty much every day, and you were desperate, and you asked me for help? And now, here we are... We're great together... But Kumon needs that, too. He's your brother. He's got the same genes, the same libido... It's time he got some help with all those raging hormones, like you did..."

"Yeah, but..." Groaning, Juza broke the kiss to speak, wrenching his neck away and sucking in air so he could think. "It shouldn't be me!"

"Who, then?" asked Muku, wrapping his fingers around Juza's fully loaded weapon. "Who would you trust to teach him and love him, and make him feel good, like we do with each other...?"

"Y-you," Juza gasped, swinging his head to face Muku so his lover could see the desperation in his eyes. He was overwhelmed. "You're the only one I trust."

To his misery, Muku shook his head. "Not without you," he said. "It's both of us, or neither. That was the deal with Banri, and that's the deal now."

"Y-you've been with other guys," Juza complained, weaponizing his secret hurt. "You can—"

"No, I haven't," Muku said, suddenly serious. His sweet, innocent eyes spoke plainly of the truth.

"B-but... Masumi..."

"We didn't do anything. He just needed to blow off some steam, and then Tsuzuru came after him, just like I knew he would."

"But...you..."

"I haven't. Not with anyone but you...and Banri, with you."

Juza was floored. He'd thought he'd known Muku better than anyone, but how could his cousin have been hiding this steadfast loyalty, and why? If they were totally exclusive, why didn't he just say so...? Was he giving Juza room to find someone else, someone he wasn't related to? He had to know Juza didn't want anyone else, not really...

Shaking his head, Juza looked helplessly into Muku's eyes. The hand on his cock stilled, just holding him, tightly and safely.

"I can't do this," he whimpered. "Not to Kumon. I know he..." Taking a deep breath, Juza turned back to his little brother, looking small and scared, and breaking his heart for it. "I know you think you have a thing for me, and it's not like I don't get it... I mean... I feel the same, it's just... I can't. You deserve so much better than me."

"There isn't anybody better than you."

"That's not true... There's... There's..." Juza wracked his brain to come up with someone appropriate, who could be to Kumon was Muku was to him. Most of the people he thought of were okay guys, but seemed like complete scum when he thought of them going near his brother. Banri was out of the question, obviously, and Taichi was way too fickle... Most of the Summer Troupe were spoken for, and those of the company who weren't were a bit annoying or immature, and Juza didn't much fancy any of them for Kumon, anyway, except maybe...

It wasn't a face Juza pictured. It was a flan. A giant, delicious-looking pudding. How could anyone who could bake delicious desserts like that be anything but totally sweet and caring? If there was one guy in all the world aside from Muku who Juza could even consider letting close to his brother...

"Omi."

"Omi?" questioned Muku.

"Omi?" breathed Kumon.

"Omi. It's...just a thought," Juza hedged. "I mean, I could talk to him, see if he'd be open to it, or... Do you really have to...? Couldn't you just wait a few more years?"

"Omi," said Kumon, firmly, before surging in and planting a grateful kiss on Juza's lips. 

It was hard to argue against gratitude like that, especially when Muku started stroking and squeezing so deftly, he erupted like Mt. Fuji waking with a vengeance, shouting out his pleasure into Kumon's face.

*

"Um... You want me to what?"

First, Omi had to make sure he wasn't hearing things... Then, he had to figure out the trap.

"Please. I can't ask this of anyone else."

Juza bowed before him at a full 90 degrees, once again demonstrating that old-fashioned charm he had about him... But what he was asking...

Putting aside the fact that it was exactly what Omi had meant to beg of Juza in turn... It was crazy!

Kazunari had torn Omi away from Juza right before he was about to bite the bullet and beg for Juza's permission to date Kumon, right out of the blue. The hyper artist had dragged Omi off to the combini, chatting his ear off the whole way out of the dorm, and then suddenly grown muted and serious, explaining that Muku had a plan and Omi should just bide his time for the moment. Kaz'd been kicked out to go rescue Omi before he could hear any of what he called the "juicy details" but he seemed to have heard more than enough of those from Kumon beforehand, which left Omi aflame with a blush he was sure made his face glow in the dark as they walked down the street.

Fast forward to the present, when Juza had approached Omi with the fierce determination of someone about to punch another person's block off... Then all-but shouted a request that Omi "take care of his brother," and when Omi had questioned what that meant... Well, it had turned out to be a lot more sexual than romantic, which threw the older man for an even wilder loop.

Juza really did think outside of the box, sometimes. It would seem that Muku had somehow planted the idea in his brain that someone needed to "show Kumon the ropes" and that Omi was just the guy to do that. It was too good to be true...and that made Omi feel weirdly guilty. He couldn't possibly accept it, just like that...could he?

"Okay, but...why are you asking at all? Shouldn't you let him ask for himself?" he stalled, trying to make sense of the situation.

"I... I dunno," Juza mumbled, glancing up and then straightening. He nervously ran his hand through his hair. "I guess...it's kinda a lot to ask...but as his big bro, I gotta do what I can. Since I can't... Uh, I mean... Look. Kumon's a good kid, and he's super adorable, and he'll learn really fast! I bet he'll be great at, uh... But if you hurt him, I will end you."

Omi blinked, trying to follow the intense turn of events at the end of that block of babble. At the very least, he was starting to believe Juza wasn't just testing him...

"I won't hurt him, I swear," he said solemnly. "And I know he's adorable. Juza..." Sighing, Omi wondered if he was going to regret being such a nice guy, but he had a code, and he followed it. "I think you've been played, man. Listen... No, seriously, just listen. I should be the one bowing and scraping, and asking you for permission, here. I actually... I really like Kumon, and I was hoping to find a way to get your blessing... I just wanna do it honestly. Here..." Sinking into a bow even lower than Juza's, Omi took a deep breath and then belted out, "I want to date your brother!"

"D-date...?" The train crash in Juza's head as all the gears creaked to a stop was practically audible. "You...like Kumon? You sleaze! How dare you look at my brother that way!"

Bolting upright, Omi dodged the knee that had begun rising toward his face. "You just begged me to sleep with him!" he cried, blocking a walloping fist. "I'm telling you he means more to me than that!"

"You just met him!"

"Which is why your idea is completely insane, but it doesn't change the fact that I do like him, and I have no intention of touching him until you give me your blessing, and even then, only if it's what he wants!"

"You...fucking saint!"

"What!?"

The flailing came to a panting halt, and Omi belatedly realized just how fast the two of them had been moving, Juza attacking and Omi defending, all by rote while yelling at each other. Juza was leaning on his knees, glaring up at Omi, high emotion plastered all over his face.

"You think I don't know?" he asked. "You think I'm a total idiot?"

"Know what? Juza... I just told you everything."

Juza shook his head, straightening up, and rubbed his knuckles along his chin, wiping away a drop of sweat. His eye contact was unwavering, and his jaw set.

"I know you like me," he said. "But you're too honorable to tell me, cause I'm seeing someone else."

Of all the things Juza had dropped on him in the last ten minutes, this one floored him the flattest. He was the one to look away, unable to take that forward stare.

"Muku," he whispered. "Not Banri..."

"Yeah," Juza agreed. "And now... Look. You're a good guy. Better'n me."

"That's not true."

"It is. I'm scum."

"There it is..." said Omi, his eyes widening as he glanced at the stern delinquent. "I've never really seen the resemblance between you and Muku...but I do now. Neither of you have any confidence in yourselves."

"You're one to talk," Juza scoffed. "You could'a said something."

"Would you have gone for me?" Omi asked, curious. It was strange, how unabashedly he was able to ask that now, and it proved that his growing feelings for Kumon were already taking precedence.

Juza shook his head. "I told you... I'm scum. I don't deserve Muku, neither, but he wouldn't take no for an answer, so..."

"Oh my god." Omi groaned, suddenly getting a flash of insight. "Did he and Kumon...? Did they actually...? I mean... They didn't pretend to...seduce you...did they?"

"He just wants to be loved, is all..."

"No, Juza, he doesn't... Not just by anyone," Omi said quietly. "We, uh... We had a talk. In the bath. About you... And about us, I guess... But you're not scum, Juza. If you were, then Kumon and Muku would be, too, and I know you don't believe that."

"You really like him?" Juza asked.

"I do," Omi confirmed.

"Cause he's my brother?"

"No. Because he's him."

"Yeah, well..." Juza looked uncomfortable, finally shifting his gaze as his sentiment got the better of him. "I've seen what you're packin' down there, man. No way are you putting that thing inside my brother. When he's ready, Kumon tops. End of discussion."

"If that's what he wants," Omi mumbled, not willing to commit to something he didn't see happening. Not that he'd be against it, because Juza was right to be concerned, but he was pretty sure Kumon was about as bottom as they came. "So does that mean I have your blessing?"

"Can I hit you once, in advance of you taking his virginity?" Juza asked, hopefully.

"Hell no..." said Omi, amazed at the uncommonly malicious sparkle in Juza's eyes. His brother complex was nothing to sneeze at. 

"Fine... But if you hurt him, I really will flatten you," Juza grumped.

"For what it's worth, I mean to do right by him," Omi promised. "And...I'm glad everything's out in the open, too. You're a good friend, Juza. I hope that won't change."

"I hope so, too." Juza stumbled forward a step, then threw himself on Omi for a quick hug before hurriedly backing away. "You're...the closest thing I have to a big brother."

Omi didn't stop to contemplate what it meant to be adopted into Juza's family. That was a conundrum for a whole other day. For now...he had a guy to formally ask out and then kiss until his lungs burned.

*

Kumon was on a high after rehearsal. So much so, that he intended to stay behind and run his lines a few more times, just to burn off some of the excess energy. He was so new to acting, but somehow, it didn't feel all that new at all. In fact, the Mankai Company felt like the home he'd never known he missed.

Perhaps it was because he had real family there, his beloved big brother, and his adored cousin... And then... Then there was...

"Hey."

Omi. He was there, leaning against the door frame like some rugged, burly answer to a prayer...

"Still at it?" he asked, his voice soft and enticing.

Kumon had to clear his throat to find his voice, which was weird, considering it had been just fine when he was speeding through his lines a moment before...

"Yeah, I just thought I'd get a bit of extra practice in... Everyone's so used to this, even the ones who were total amateurs before...but it's really new to me. I feel like I have to work hard to catch up, and..."

It would be so nice if the heavens could send another answer to his prayers in the form of a lightning bolt to strike him down before he could continue on like a babbling fool for much longer. As it was, Omi started forward and he trailed off, the older man's sheer presence enough to silence him.

"Sorry to interrupt," Omi said gruffly, though he didn't look sorry at all.

The next thing Kumon knew, he was being swept off his feet in a bear hug, and swung his legs around Omi's hips for balance, even as their mouths collided. The show of strength made his bones melt, but luckily, it wasn't just a show, because Omi's arms were around him, pulling him tight to a brawny chest and holding him safe and steady as they kissed like the world was ending for a few minutes.

"Did...?" Kumon took a moment to capture his breath. "Did Juza talk to you, then?"

"You mean, did he fall for Muku's sneaky little scheme?" Omi growled. "Of course he did... But I told him the truth. I told him everything, and I asked him fair and square to let me be your boyfriend, and he agreed."

"B-boyfriend...? Really? He what!? Really!?"

One shock piled on the other, until Kumon's heart was pounding as much with joy as with the stimulation of riding on Omi's hips, breathless from making out.

"Really," Omi said, with a sweetly tolerant half-smile. "If you'll have me. Sorry. I meant to lead with that."

"Can you...put me down? I need to..." Whatever Kumon was going to say was made moot by the primary directive to sit, and as soon as his feet touched the polished wooden panels of the studio floor, he collapsed right down onto his butt. Blushing, he folded his hands over his knees as if sitting had been his intent all along. Omi, bless his soul, joined him.

Catching sight of himself in the mirror, hair tousled and cheeks pink as peaches, Kumon marvelled at how happy he looked...and then realized that the same was not true of Omi, who looked slightly apprehensive. Why didn't he look happy? Had Juza threatened something, or...?

"Oh. S-sorry... I forgot, I didn't actually give you an answer. I'm just so..." Beating himself up inside, Kumon bowed his head deeply, too embarrassed to look at anything but the grain of the wooden floor as he said, loudly, "I'd be honored to have you as my boyfriend!"

"Hear that!? 'Grat's Omi, my man!"

"Shhh! They'll hear us!"

If Kumon had looked like a peach before, he must look like a bright red tomato after hearing that exchange and realizing that Muku and Kaz had been eavesdropping all along. Burying his face in his hands, he peeked through his fingers to see if Omi was upset by it.

He was grinning... Omi was all heart, and he was so accepting, and not at all ashamed... So Kumon decided he wasn't going to be ashamed, either.

"I don't care who knows it," he said, raising his chin proudly and looking Omi in the eyes. Besides, Juza was the only one he might have been worried about, and Juza had already given his blessing, so... "If you're really sure...that you want me..."

Omi's grin faded, but in a way that was more melted butter than dissipating steam. His expression took on a wistful cast as he said, "I'm sure, Kumon. More sure than I've ever been..."

"Then..."

As if they hadn't had their tongues down each other's throats just moments ago, Kumon crawled forward and placed a chaste, lingering peck on Omi's lips. There was no reason it should feel any different...but it did. He was kissing his boyfriend. All of a sudden, Omi brought as much of that sense of "Home" as Mankai did.

The hand on his lower back was gentle, supporting him without applying any pressure. The lips plied against his own demanded nothing. Yet, somehow, there was a slight tension in Omi that gave him away.

His heart racing again, Kumon broke the kiss and placed his hands lightly on Omi's chest. "You don't have to hold back," he whispered. "I'm not..." Then it hit him. "Did Juza...say you couldn't touch me, or something? Did he warn you not...to have sex with me?"

Omi laughed, and just the sound set Kumon's stirring emotions at ease. "Juza..." Omi said, quietly enough that anyone still listening in couldn't hear, "Asked me to be your first and 'show you the ropes'." His hand came up to cup Kumon's cheek, immense in proportion but gentle all the same. "But as much as I want you... I think we should take things slow. I know you're ready, at heart, but... I just wanna savor every moment, and, well... When we do... I want you to be comfortable."

"Oh... Right." Kumon found his face flaming yet again at the implications. He wanted Omi to make love to him. There was no doubt about that. He'd been imagining it a lot...in the abstract. But the fact of the matter was... That required one very large appendage crammed into his skinny body. He hadn't actually considered the logistics and thought about what that meant.

He was pretty sure his BL education a la Muku was extensive enough that he didn't need to ask any of the usual questions, like, "Will it hurt?" etc. But he did appreciate Omi's consideration for him, and found he was less reckless than he might have thought.

"Thanks," he said. "I'd appreciate that... But..."

Getting to his feet, Kumon scurried over to the door and looked out, checking to see that their audience had taken off after revealing themselves. There was no one there. He shut the door and turned the lock, ensuring their privacy.

"That doesn't mean we can't celebrate," he suggested, turning shy eyes lit with invitation on his brand new boyfriend.

"What did you have in mind?" Omi asked, already on his feet and swaggering toward Kumon, his gaze wandering flatteringly.

As soon as Omi reached him, Kumon took hold of his boyfriend's belt and pried it open, sliding down to his knees. He held Omi's gaze as he pulled on the zipper and tugged down the material, freeing a pair of tented boxers.

"A meal?" he muttered, suggestively. "Maybe something...to wash it down with?"

Omi groaned.

Kumon learned a lot, kneeling there on the floor of the rehearsal studio, not the least of which being that he liked the weight and feel of Omi's length in his hands. He might be a virgin, and he might be blushing, but he was no innocent. He'd always known exactly what he wanted and what he liked...and Omi was all of it.

No practice could prepare Kumon for the real thing, but he was glad he had been idly practicing how to stifle his gag reflex while eating corn dogs and sausages and the like for a while now. In all honesty, he'd done so thinking of Juza, so Omi wasn't so much larger than he'd been prepared for, but it wasn't exactly easy, all the same. Funnily enough, that encouraged him, because he was sure he would get lots and lots of practice going forward, and he looked forward to getting better at holding Omi down his throat without choking.

At one point, Omi suggested they get down on the floor so he could reciprocate, but Kumon shook his head with the fat tip of Omi's cock wobbling between his lips. He didn't think he could keep this up with any kind of stimulation to his own erection. He was already throbbing fit to burst.

"Okay..."

From Kumon's awkward perspective, Omi looked a little pained, as if he was holding back, and Kumon was a little grateful for that. If Omi started thrusting, or grabbed his head or something, he would surely choke. But the man did nothing of the sort, pumping his fists at his sides and leaning heavily back against the door, groaning at irregular intervals, his eyes constantly trained on Kumon. There surely wasn't a more considerate boyfriend in all the world...

When Omi came, Kumon was disappointed that he barely managed to swallow a drop, almost spitting everywhere as his throat rejected the spurt of fluid, closing up in protest. Covering his mouth and coughing, he tried not to let anything spill on either of their clothes, or the floor. That was the least he could do.

Omi was panting, but peered down at him through almost sleepy lashes, touching his cheek in concern. "Are you okay?" he asked. "Sorry. I should have warned you..."

"I'm...fine," Kumon insisted, still coughing. "Just...takes practice," he gasped.

Kneeling down, Omi brushed away a tear or two, but he seemed to understand they were products of the body's reflexes, not tears of emotion. He then pulled Kumon against him all of a sudden, and they both toppled a little, Omi falling back against the door and Kumon landing mostly in his lap, his cheek pressed to Omi's chest. He was held there for a moment, a little shocked and impressed at how overwhelmed Omi seemed.

"I'm fine, really," he repeated, eventually, not sure what else to say. 

"Sorry, it's just... It's been a really long time since... Since anyone tried to take care of me," Omi finished. "It just feels really good to have that. To have you..."

"That's not all, is it?" Kumon asked, sitting up. He was suspicious of the sentiment in Omi's voice. It wasn't entirely happy. "Omi, you've been really great to me, ever since we first kissed...but it's almost a little too good to be true." Huffing out a sigh, Kumon thought it over for a moment that spanned a forum of discussion in his head, and decided to forge on ahead. "I know you want me, and you're not shy...but you're holding back, I can tell. If it's not because of Juza, and it's not because I'm scared or anything—'cause I'm not—then it has to be something you've gone through... And you don't have to tell me about it, at least not now. Really, you don't. There's time for that. I just... If there's something I should know about... As your boyfriend... As someone who's gonna touch you and kiss you, and... And be intimate with you... Is there...something?"

"Damn. You're too smart for me," Omi gushed. "Truth is, I didn't even realize until you just said it..." He smiled, and it was genuine enough that Kumon relaxed a little. "I guess... I just grew up among a rough crowd. I don't wanna be that guy, taking advantage of eager hormones and all that... But I really, really want you, especially right now, because touching and kissing you is new and exciting, so I'm fighting my instincts, here."

"Well, you don't have to fight them for too long, okay?" Kumon wheedled, already regretting their decision not to go all the way just yet as his utterly undiminished erection throbbed against Omi's stiffly muscled flesh. "How about this? After my play... We'll do it. So we have until then to get used to each other, and, you know...get me ready for the main event."

"Sounds like a plan," Omi agreed, already taking the hint from unconsciously rocking hips and stuffing his hand down Kumon's shorts. It only took a few deft strokes as they kissed for Kumon's world to explode with stars, shouting around Omi's tongue as his body seized up in pleasure.

*

Omi watched the curtain descend with a guilty anticipation. It was closing night, and he'd been walking around with wood in his shorts all day, just imagining what was to come. Taichi had already agreed to spend the night back home with his family for a rare visit, giving Omi and Kumon some privacy so they could finally go all the way.

For weeks, Omi had been driven mad with lust as he gradually prepared Kumon with fingers and toys, opening him up and getting him used to the feel of ever-larger objects inside of him so that he could take Omi without too much pain. They both knew there would be some, but Kumon was not put off in the least, and Omi was not a saint, by any measure of the word. They'd shared blow jobs, they'd 69'd, they'd even humped their way to completion. Once or twice, Omi had made love to the gap between Kumon's thighs, plagued all the while by the maddening knowledge that there was a much hotter, tighter crevice in store for him that he hoped would feel as good for Kumon as it would for him.

It was a strange kind of Wonderland for Omi, who generally did not go about thinking about sex, 24/7. Until now, he'd mostly thought about food and photos, and his lines, of course... But now that he had a boyfriend, he was like a man possessed and could only hope that the fierce desperation would abate once he finally got to take what was his.

When he managed to break through the constant fog of lust to consider it, he realized he hadn't thought about Juza in that way almost at all. Sure, he'd conjured up an image or two of sliding inside of Juza now and again in the midst of masturbation, but it had always been an afterthought, a little fodder to fan the flames. In Kumon's case, the flames needed no fanning, whatsoever. They were a raging inferno he couldn't quite put out. Maybe it was because Kumon was his boyfriend, and it was only natural to want him... Maybe it was the sexuality Kumon exerted around him that did the trick... Maybe it was just that Kumon was his sexual kryptonite, and that was that. Whatever it was, there was no confusion or hesitation between them regarding Juza, as Omi had originally feared there might be. They both knew exactly where they stood with each other, and that was a blessing.

At last, the time was nigh, though. Kumon was as ready as he was ever going to get. The Summer Troupe's play was over, so any lingering discomfort wouldn't impact the show. Omi had lube, condoms, water bottles, pain killers, towels, wet cloths, and anything else he could think of at the ready.

While he waited for Kumon, Omi couldn't help reminiscing about his own first time. It had been with Nachi, of course, and Omi had been utterly selfish and zeroed in on his own pleasure the whole time, like a wild dog getting its kicks. He wished he could say it was lucky it hadn't been Nachi's first time...but that wasn't lucky at all. In fact, his second-biggest regret was failing to protect Nachi from a horrible first experience, however common among street gangs like theirs. This was his chance to make up for that failure. Kumon was going to be pampered as best Omi could manage.

He'd thought about making it romantic, setting up a candlelit dinner and all...but his instincts turned out to be correct when Kumon came knocking at his door, dressed only in a bathrobe, which he immediately parted to reveal the blatant truth of his eagerness. He was clearly nervous, but that didn't stop him from wrapping himself around Omi for a deep, resounding kiss, and climbing up into Omi's arms to be carried to the bed, all the way up the ladder, the second they were both naked.

Omi had learned that pampering, with Kumon, didn't necessarily mean treating him like fragile glass, so he lightly tossed his boyfriend down on the mattress and clambered up over him, kissing him breathless again while their groins rubbed in greeting. He then began licking and kissing every inch of pale skin, stained red with excitement, particularly where Omi nibbled and sucked. He went to town on Kumon's pert little nipples, having very quickly picked up just how sensitive they were, and then licked a trail down between parted thighs, bypassing Kumon's hardness and stuffing his tongue right into the coveted prize he planned to claim.

Judging by the moans, groans, and writhing hips, Kumon was just as eager as he was. He revelled in the feel of those small, long-fingered hands scrunching in his hair and rubbing all over his head as he flicked his tongue in and out, his thumb teasing the slight crease between Kumon's balls while he was at it.

Some other day, they would take their time, kissing and touching for hours before gradually working up to penetration, but what had the last few weeks been if not extended foreplay? Neither of them was going to maintain their sanity for very long if they didn't just get on with it. Even so, Omi liberally lubed up his fingers and took his time stretching Kumon out, pleased that there was little resistance and no signs of pain, even when he had all four fingers squeezed in there, plunging mercilessly back and forth.

"I'm ready!" Kumon groaned, his whole body glowing an angry red as he arched and shifted.

Briefly, Omi considered getting him off first, since he was clearly not going to last, but he figured that hyper-sensation close to the edge would help Kumon to find the silver lining when he was fuller than he'd ever been before with Omi's girth. It was time.

"Okay. Let me just put on some plastic," Omi told him, fumbling around for the box of condoms by the foot of the bed.

They'd talked about it, and Omi had insisted they use condoms. For one thing, it was just a good habit to get into, but for another... He knew too many guys from his gang days who regretted having gone without. Nachi had always insisted, too, and Omi knew that was to protect him, just in case. So he ripped open a jumbo sheathe, struggled with it a bit, and tore it halfway down, swearing as he threw it over the rail and grabbed another.

"Can I do it?"

Omi almost blushed, stupid as it was, but he laughed it off and handed the packet over. "Sure." It was kinda cute that Kumon wanted to dress him for the ball, so to speak.

Kumon was a much defter hand than Omi, anyway. He was like a tailor, fitting a coat a size too small to an awkward body that couldn't stand still, just going with the flow and getting the job done. It was snug, and Omi regretted the slight loss of sensation, but he knew it wouldn't put a damper on him for long.

There was an awkward moment once he was outfitted, where Kumon sat sprawled before him and Omi's mind went blank. Then, he leaned forward and took Kumon's face in his hands, kissing the boy he was mad about. Things just seemed to lead one to the other from there, and soon, Kumon was laying flat, his legs crossed at the ankles around Omi's waist, while Omi held his breath, the head of his cock just poking at a hole that widened and closed ever so slightly with Kumon's deep, focused breaths.

Omi licked his lips. "I don't know if this is the time, but... I love you, Kumon," he said, unable to withhold his truth.

Kumon began blinking fiercely, and Omi immediately brushed away the two little tears that leaked out of the corners of each of his eyes. "Good... Cause I love you, too," murmured the boy, taking a deep breath and letting it out with a whoosh. "So let's do this."

Omi just nodded fractionally, setting his hips up just right, and began to press forward. At first, it felt like it was impossible, like there was no way he was even getting the tip of himself in there, but then Kumon breathed and he jolted forward, freezing in a moment of panic when he felt how deep he'd gone all at once.

Kumon was gasping, his head pressed back into the pillow, but he nodded, nudging Omi with his hips and hands to give the all clear. So Omi carefully continued his descent into heaven. He didn't bottom out. He didn't dare. Not yet. Maybe not this time, at all. Either way, it felt incredible to be inside Kumon.

He was so taken with the sensation of being squeezed and surrounded that it was up to Kumon to prompt him to move. How embarrassing. It wasn't like he was some green young virgin. He'd done this before...

Reminding himself of that fact, Omi gathered what remained of his wits together and started to slowly drag himself out, pushing back in a little faster than before, and Kumon moaned and whimpered. He watched like a hawk, searching for the slightest sign that Kumon wanted or needed him to stop. He almost panicked when his boyfriend cringed, but then a tremble went through Kumon's body and he bit his lip.

"I can't..."

Suddenly, he arched, and Omi held him tight so he wouldn't jerk and hurt himself as he came, gasping and falling limp in Omi's arms once the spurts subsided. He was so beautiful and erotic, Omi almost lost it, too.

"Sorry," Kumon gasped, his eyes closed as if he was too embarrassed to look at Omi.

"Don't be," Omi said, his voice gravel mixed with syrup. "I'm not."

And he wasn't. With relief, Omi was glad to realize he didn't and wouldn't have to be sorry. Kumon was enjoying this plenty.

"Want me to stop?" he asked, prepared to pull out and finish himself off for tonight if he had to.

"No!" said Kumon emphatically. "Not yet! It's way too soon. Just keep going... I'll... I'll be right behind you."

"Okay," Omi whispered, leaning on his elbow to stroke Kumon's cheek. He noticed he did that a lot, but he just loved the feel of Kumon's small face in his palms, and he knew Kumon was partial to it, too.

After his orgasm, Kumon's body was more relaxed, and Omi found it easier to slide in and out of him, still careful not to venture too deep. He lost himself in a trance-like state for a while, appreciating the subtleties of the friction and keeping his motion steady. Then, suddenly, Kumon began clinging to him, arms about his neck, and Omi was compelled to kiss him. As they kissed, he stopped rocking, but gradually shifted a little deeper. Kumon began moaning into his mouth, and he broke away, panting.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"It's good," Kumon whispered. "Like... I know it'd hurt if you just rammed right in there, but it feels good to be this full... Like I can feel you in every nerve."

When he spoke like that, Omi felt himself start to sweat with the heat of fever sweeping through his body. It was't just physical, it was chemical. Kumon's actions and mannerisms made Omi's body react like never before.

"I think that's enough for tonight," he said, starting to retract in panic as his body flushed and trembled. He was going to lose control if he wasn't careful.

"No!" Kumon whined. "It's fine. I can take it if you need to move a bit faster, or a bit deeper..."

"I'm not sure I can keep it to a bit," Omi confessed, torn between giving in to Kumon's plea and pulling out to end the temptation.

"You don't get it," Kumon said, his voice strained. "I'm not scared. I trust you more than you trust yourself, but... Even if you ripped me open...I think I'd find a way to enjoy it, as long as it's you."

Every muscle in Omi's body went into instant lockdown to prevent him from driving relentlessly into Kumon immediately after those words processed in his mind. He bent his forehead into Kumon's shoulder and fought for control.

It wasn't like something out of a romance novel, where his body would act of its own accord. It was purely psychological. How did one resist the temptation of utter freedom of pleasure when given blatant permission? They were going to have to have a talk later... For now, Omi just had to remind himself that he would gut himself before hurting Kumon, and with that in mind, he finally began to move in earnest.

It did feel amazing, especially when he slid effortlessly in almost to the hilt at one point, but he wasn't in any danger of losing his faculties and going into a mad drive for pleasure. He kept his eyes on Kumon's face, stunned by the variety of expressions and depth of passion his boyfriend could convey without ever knowing it.

And then, all of a sudden, his climax was upon him, built up steadily and relentlessly until he couldn't possibly deny it. He pulled out halfway, to avoid a knee-jerk slam at the last second, his arms tightening about Kumon in a ruthless squeeze. He felt Kumon constrict around him at the same time, his insides convulsing with muscular spasms that indicated Omi's orgasm had triggered a sympathetic reaction.

Weakened with lethargy, Omi was less gentle pulling out than he had been going in, but he was also much more flaccid, having spent himself rather violently as his body clamped up to avoid any extraneous motions. Either way, he wasn't really thinking about it, or anything at all. His mind was as numb as his tingling nerve endings, and he sank heavily into the mattress beside Kumon, cooling sweat giving him the chills in contrast to the heat that still emanated from his skin.

They lay silently for a while, Omi listening to his own heartbeat. He eventually became aware that Kumon was steadfastly observing him.

"What?" he asked. "Don't tell me I hurt you... I mean, more than...necessary..."

"I'm not feeling it yet, at least," Kumon said, practically. "Well, maybe a little, but it's more sore than hurt... It's not...bad. Anyway. That's not it."

"What, then?" Omi asked, strangely concerned about that steady, unreadable stare.

"I'm just really glad..." said Kumon. "That I get to be with you, and that you're my first, and... I guess, I just feel really lucky, and it's hard to believe."

"I'm the one who's lucky!" Omi argued, instinct making him mark Kumon as his with a possessive arm thrown over the boy's waist. "But I know it's stupid, but I'm constantly scared of hurting you—physically or otherwise. I don't know why. I know you're not fragile, it's just—"

"It's not stupid at all," Kumon said, suddenly grinning so brightly, Omi was baffled. "I know exactly why you're scared."

"Why...?" asked Omi, still not coming to any conclusions.

"Close your eyes, and imagine... I dunno, just imagine you made a meal you didn't know I hated and it made me angry or something."

"Uh... Okay, sure..."

"What happens next?"

"Uh... I guess... Juza punches...me in the gut. Oh."

Was Omi, thinking logically, scared of Juza? Not really. The kid was one hell of a fighter, but Omi could hold his own, and he had experience and street smarts to boot. What scared him...was the emotional threat of having Juza upset with him for hurting Kumon. That was what happened when you disappointed family... You disappointed yourself, even more.

"Wow. Talk about psychological warfare," Omi said, laughing nervously.

"So now you know, you can stop being silly and just trust yourself. And me. You're the gentlest, most considerate person I've ever met."

"But what if...?" Omi took a deep breath, and then voiced his worst fear. "What if I wasn't? What if I went back to my old ways and turned into a ruffian?"

"I don't believe you could ever have hurt anyone who put their trust in you," Kumon breathed. "So go ahead and do your worst. You might be surprised to find out how tough I am."

Omi grinned. "Not likely. I know you're tough. I'm the one who's fragile. I'll work on it. Promise."

"We can work on it together," Kumon said softly, shifting a little closer so that he could easily be tucked against Omi's chest and cuddled like the precious treasure he was.

Strangely, as they lay there, Kumon's quiet breathing filling Omi's ears, he did feel more at peace. He'd done right by Kumon, and somehow he felt like Nachi would be happy for him.

Suddenly, it occurred to him that he had been so adamant about receiving Juza's blessing without deception because Juza's blessing was the closest he could get to Nachi's blessing. But he knew it would do. He knew Nachi had to be smiling down on him and the boy who made him so damn happy.

"Hey, Omi...?"

"Mhmm?"

"Did you say you had pain killers? I'm kinda starting to feel it."

"Shit. Hold on."

Maybe he'd take Juza's suggestion and have Kumon top for a while...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned! For once, I can promise it won't be long...


	3. Highway to Hell (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakyo/Banri  
> (Sakyo + Azami, Banri + Azami)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to split this chapter up, so this first part can be enjoyed to its fullest for itself.
> 
> Apparently my muses have decided it's not enough to leave it where it was originally supposed to end, right at the last second, so there will be more to come.

_What was happening, shouldn't. Not between them. Not only should it not happen, but it also should not be a possibility._

_Yet it was happening, and while every iota of duty and morals in Sakyo screamed for him to take it back, one fact overrode his instincts: Azami was kissing him back._

_There was a profound give and take in the pressure of their lips and motion of their tongues. It filled Sakyo with a kernel of joy, and silenced his better judgement._

_Then, they parted, Sakyo staring right at the teenager whose eyes were still closed, savoring the moment. Slowly, Azami raised his lashes, sucking in a deep breath._

_A moment later, he was skidding out the door, and Sakyo felt his world crashing down round him._

_So of course Sakyo had left. Mankai Company was a convenient excuse, but the truth was that he just couldn't be around the heir to the organization any longer. What he had done was shameful._

_Azami was in middle school. He was just a child. Whatever complications of loyalty, familiarity, and possession had led Sakyo to that kiss, he must not indulge..._

*

So Sakyo had left, for his own sake, and for Azami's. Whether disgusted or afraid, the young heir's rejection in bolting was quite clear. He was better off without Sakyo's presence to disturb him... Yet there he was, barging his way into Mankai company, and there was nowhere for either of them to run this time.

During their time apart, Sakyo had spent many hours out on the porch or in the courtyard, analyzing his motives. For a long time, he had thought his feelings toward Azami were more fatherly. He was certainly more of a father to the boy than the boss had ever been. It made sense that they were close, he and Azami...and maybe sometimes his affection had been of a fatherly nature, or brotherly, at the least...but the taller, stronger, and more mature Azami grew, the more Sakyo was drawn to view him in a different light. He'd lied to himself. When he admired Azami's strong thighs, faintly muscled torso, or sparkling teal eyes, he'd told himself it was pride in his ward. It wasn't. He knew that now. It was lust, pure and simple. Azami was growing into a very beautiful, very appealing man, and he had doted on Sakyo as much as he ever would anyone...and Sakyo wasn't his father, or his brother, or anything more damning than an adult who should have had greater self control.

It hardly mattered anymore. Azami hated him. If that kiss had upset him so much, though, why allow Sakyo to have his way? Why agree to be roommates?

It was selfishness on Sakyo's part. Even knowing that Azami couldn't stand to be around him anymore, he couldn't bear the thought that someone else might thaw Azami's icy shell and bring the boy into adulthood. With men like Itaru or Azuma around, or even the innocent temptresses like Yuki and Masumi... Pure, possessive jealousy drove Sakyo to ensure that Azami would share a room with him alone.

It was folly, to be sure. While Azami only grew colder toward him by the day, Sakyo was burning up inside. He lay awake at night, serenaded by the boy's breathing. He woke to the sight of well-fitting pants sliding up over slim hips. The scent of powder that he associated with Azami teased his nostrils at all hours. The lengthy phone conversations with Shifuto he occasionally overheard left Azami's brassy laughter ringing in his ears.

It was no heaven, but nor was it quite a hell. When he was most on edge, Sakyo would spend the night in Azuma's room. Those nights were innocent enough at first, but soon he gave in to the vixen's invitations to blow off steam as he had occasionally done in the past.

The worst part was that Azami knew. He was no naive sapling. For all that he got along well with Azuma, he avoided the beautiful man whenever he could get away with it—almost as determinedly as he avoided Sakyo.

Banri, however, he seemed to click with, and that made Sakyo nervous. It was during the week before Azami's portrait that it began. Sakyo was sure of it. 

The worst was that it was surely spite of him that brought the pair together. He hadn't thought Banri's reticence anything more than a difficulty submitting to a stronger power. Now, he saw it ran deeper than that, and Azami...

Azami loathed him utterly, and that was more painful a truth than any Sakyo had ever had to face. It diminished him.

After the portrait performance, he no longer paid visits to Azuma. He spoke little to anybody, in fact, aside from the director. He didn't want her to catch on to his heartache. Her meddling would be the end of him.

Then...the accident happened. At last, Azami began to acknowledge that Sakyo had his own struggles and his own reasons. It was by no means a forgivable incident, but some good had come of it, at least. Of course, when Sakyo got his hands on the driver, they would soon be bathed in blood.

At last, Sakyo could see that love still existed between he and Azami, however warped and strained. It gave him back some of his surety—enough for him to make a move for his own peace of mind.

"Settsu."

"What do you want, old man? I'm busy."

Sakyo's eyes narrowed. Banri's definition of "busy" was buffing his nails. Since when did he give two ticks about his nails? Since Azami.

"You ever brush me off like that again..." Grabbing and crushing the emery board in his fist, Sakyo growled. He stood there for a moment, teeth bared furiously, and marvelled at his own behavior.

"What the hell...?" Banri gasped, a quaver in his voice.

Sakyo did not make threats or shows of strength. He yelled, lectured, or whopped the deserving around the ears, but he did not stoop to raw intimidation. He imagined the effect must be quite terrifying. Only once had he lost his temper within the dorm. He had struck Banri on that occasion, proving that the cocky teen got under his skin in a way no one else could.

The boy had guts. "Ok, so what do you want from me?" he asked, with just enough hauteur to offset his otherwise meek facade.

Sakyo crooked a finger, beckoning Banri to follow. He led the young man to the room he shared with Azami, ushered him inside, and closed the door. He then hooked a foot around Banri's ankle, causing his prey to stumble forward.

"Ow! Hey! What...? Watch it! Agh!"

Leaning at an angle on the ladder that led up to Sakyo's bed, Banri went quiet. He was smart. He immediately grasped his situation and the disadvantage he was now at, despite usually having a few centimetres on Sakyo. He was surprisingly placid with the realization.

"You don't have to play hackey-sack with my ankles, you know. If you want something, just say it."

Leaning over him and grasping a rung above his head, Sakyo smirked, releasing a little huff of laughter. "Oh? Would you have me be the kind of man who chats over tea? Or the kind who takes what he wants?"

He knew Banri, and he could easily read the desire in the boy now. He had no doubt as to what a little authoritarian treatment would do to him.

Without further ado, he swooped down and captured those insolent lips in a kiss. Banri was more straightforwardly eager than he had anticipated, reaching out his tongue as if starved for affection.

The kiss grew deep and heated, and Sakyo's plan dissolved into uncertainty. It had seemed easy and uncomplicated. Seduce Banri to pry him away from Azami. Maybe let the young heir stumble across them so he got the point. That would keep him safe from this delinquent and also potentially give him reason to finally go home. Sure, he'd probably go back to hating Sakyo more than ever, but at least he would be safely under guard. There was less temptation hanging around that way, too.

As for Banri...Sakyo didn't dislike the idea of training him into a loyal companion. Hell, they were off to a good start. At least, so he thought, until Banri struggled and broke for air. 

"What...are you doing?" the boy gasped. "Why now? What's...? What's the big idea?" He sounded oddly distraught, but that was probably the breathlessness.

"Does it matter?" Sakyo murmured. He began brushing strands off the boy's face. "Although, I admit, I didn't think you'd make it this easy."

Scowling, Banri caught the hand playing with his hair. "It matters," he rasped, taking Sakyo aback with the emotion in his eyes and voice. "All this time, I thought you were totally indifferent to me. I thought you just saw a kid you had to keep in line, or... There's no way you just woke up this morning and suddenly realized what's right in front of your eyes. So what's the catch? What do you get out of this now?"

Slowly, Sakyo rose up to his full height and backed off. He ran a hand through his hair and would have straightened his glasses if they weren't on the floor beside Banri.

"I...made a mistake," he murmured, stumbling back a step and pivoting to make his exit.

"The hell you did," Banri growled, launching at him from behind and knocking them both to the floor.

In a brawl of pure strength, Banri might have the upper hand, but what Sakyo lacked in brawn, he compensated in tactics. Banri was trapped under him, hands caught and ankles locked, before Sakyo even realized there was no real threat. They boy had never intended to hurt him, just to stop him from retreating.

"What if I say I don't care?" Banri whispered.

"What are you talking about?" Sakyo asked, frowning. Just when he thought he was in control again, Banri changed the playing field once more.

"Whatever you're plotting... I can take it. I shouldn't have said anything. You just caught me off guard, you know? Look... I just..."

"Don't cheapen yourself like that, Settsu," Sakyo sighed. He let go of the boy's wrists and started to push himself up.

"Screw you," Banri hissed. "You started this. You dragged me here, cornered me, kissed me, and now you wanna run away? What? Cause you feel guilty? You're such a prick!"

"Yes. I am. Which is exactly why you should take the reprieve and be grateful for it."

"You know what I'm grateful for?" Expecting some kind of childish slur, Sakyo was shaken by Banri's next words. "I'm grateful I get to be here in this stupid theatre company with goddamn Hyodo and that ditz of a director...and you. You changed my life. Do you even know that? You taught me to take responsibility. You taught me what it means to want something that matters, not just to snatch up what's in reach. I...almost forgot that, till you kissed me."

Sakyo was almost afraid to ask, but Banri had spoken a word that triggered his very moral code. He steeled himself to take responsibility.

"Say what you mean," he schooled.

"Heh. You're one to talk... I mean, I was going to snatch up Azami, cause he was in my reach, you know? Yeah, I know. You'd probably kill me if I touched him... He's just real adorable, you know? Sure you do. Anyway, what I mean is... You're the one that really matters to me. I'll do whatever I have to. Just don't... Don't run away cause you suddenly get how serious I am, ok? I know you're not...yet. It's fine."

"Idiot. It's not fine." Fighting the sudden urge to kiss Banri again, Sakyo closed his eyes. That unaccustomed, unpolished, raw emotion... Those brash, straightforward words... "I'm not good enough for you." He huffed, forcing himself to look Banri in the eyes and hammer his point home. "Why now? Because it suits my needs. What's the catch? I'm using you. What do I get out of this...? You leave Azami alone, and maybe he gets on with his life, without me. I'm just a dirty old man, Settsu, with a despicable yen for younger men, or so it would seem."

"Wait... Azami? You...? Since when?"

"I couldn't even tell you when it began, but before I knew it...I crossed a line. That's why I left the organization and chose to live here in the dorm. That's why I opposed his staying here and joining the troupe. At least, it's part of the reason... Regardless...that's why I planned to come between the two of you and make you mine. Not such a role model now, am I?"

"So what you're saying is...Azuma's not doin' it for you and you need a hot 'n horny young guy to take your mind off the kid you're stuck on."

"That's not... You know what? Fine. Yes. As uncouth as it is... Yes. So now that you understand—"

Sakyo never got to finish, because Banri's tongue barged into his mouth and stole his breath, swallowing his words unformed. He considered withdrawing, but that would just indicate weakness. After all, he wasn't exactly adverse to deepening his relationship with Banri. What he regretted was his own motives. Banri, it seemed, did not have such regrets.

The voice of reason that lived somewhere in Sakyo's heart and kept him from a far darker path throughout his rocky life tried to encourage further conversation, but Sakyo had never thought of Banri and Juza the way he did the other younger troupe members, and he wasn't about to start babying Banri now. Perhaps that was his problem. He'd never been able to consider Azami a normal child, either. They walked in the shadows, the lot of them, and those shadows tainted what innocence they might have had in another life. Sakyo was no different. He'd never truly been a child, certainly not by the time he found his refuge in Mankai Company.

Before he knew it, Banri was tugging at Sakyo's belt, prodding him clumsily with a well-placed knee. He might not be a child, but he had no real experience to speak of outside of his fooling around with Juza...and perhaps Muku. As strange as the thought of the two hoodlums making out was, they can't have been very delicate about it, that much was clear.

With a growl, Sakyo tore himself from the flushed young man and climbed to his feet, running a hand through his hair to distract from just how much Banri's clumsy attentions were really affecting him. He stared down at the un-moving temptress who was daring him with baleful eyes to just try and call things off.

"Get off the floor," he instructed. "There's no need to act like animals. Besides, I should lock the door before Azami comes back and walks right in on us."

Banri sat up, watching him turn the lock. "Wasn't that part of your plan?"

The words stung with truth, and Sakyo kept his back turned. "It...was, but now... I'm afraid his reaction might hurt you."

"That didn't bother you before." He could hear Banri moving behind him, toward his loft bed.

"Frankly, it didn't occur to me," Sakyo admit, feeling calmer.

"Wow. You are a real piece of work."

The calm lasted until Sakyo turned to find Banri sitting atop the ladder of Azami's bed rather than his own. He considered, mildly surprised that he didn't immediately order Banri down from there. Just the sight of him sitting up there, legs spread naturally and dangling over the edge... Just the implication of what they might do together, up there on the bed Azami slept in, amid sheets rife with his delicious scent...

Hard as a smith's hammer, Sakyo grabbed the very top rung, right between Banri's thighs, planted one foot on the second lowest, and swung himself up to hover from the ladder, ready to clamber over Banri in an instant.

"Changed your mind yet?" he asked, his voice so deep with lust, even that turned him on.

"Yeah, not really," Banri wheezed, breath control a far-off memory.

"Don't mince your words," Sakyo scolded, touching his fingertips to the well-defined ridge jutting ruthlessly against the material smothering Banri's crotch.

"Sir, no sir."

Never had Banri sounded so sincere.

"Better."

Smirking, Sakyo worked the young delinquent free of his trappings, maintaining eye contact as he coaxed and stroked, right up until he stretched his tongue to a leaking tip more honest than any words. With a hum of appreciation for a taste he could only describe as befitting such an active youth, he took Banri fully into his mouth, relaxing his jaw and working all of the length that strained eagerly against his tongue.

A string of inventive cussing serenaded his ears until he chuckled, triggering a long, low moan that drew out ever longer with every shift and escalation of the technique at Sakyo's disposal. Banri was gripping his head with one hand, nails like claws in his scalp. He only increased his suction until his cheeks and lips were fixed to Banri's flesh with a vengeance. He wanted to make Banri scream his name and prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was still young and sexy enough for the firecracker in his grasp.

"Holy shit! Jesus Christ! Fuck! Sakyo—fuck! Stop! Mother... Shit, stop! Sak—"

With a gasping intake of breath, Sakyo came up for air and watched with wide eyes as Banri suddenly bucked. He kicked, reflexively, sending Sakyo swinging in a wide arc by one arm and foot, almost losing his hold, altogether. Then, a jet of goo shot Sakyo in the cheek, just missing his eye. He wiped it off, bringing it to his lips to taste as Banri stared incredulously, completely slack from the waist down.

"What...was that?" Sakyo drawled, licking his fingers clean.

"Shit... Dude... You had me locked down so tight I couldn't even..." He trailed off, eyes dropping to the twitching, rising pole between his limp thighs. "Holy shit."

"Heh." Sakyo was only human. He couldn't help a gust of pride from filling him to the brim. "So how do you want round two?"

*

Banri didn't really do things like getting emotional or holding onto to every pixel of an experience for a mental keepsake, or caring... At least, that's what he always told himself.

Fuck Sakyo. Fuck his stupid, pretty face; and his lame, sexy glasses; and fuck that fucking hot smirk. It wasn't fair. Nobody was supposed to make Banri feel this way—like he wanted to be better, or like he didn't actually have to. All this time, he'd been half hot for Sakyo, and half terrified, cause unlike everyone else in the dorm—except maybe Omi—he got just how crazy badass Sakyo really was, and just how much he could fuck a guy up who hurt something Sakyo cared for...or just got in the way on the job. Sakyo was fucking scary...and as much as Banri hated to admit it, that was a fucking turn on.

So there he was, getting kissed and licked and petted by this sexy older man he'd been horny over for so long, and he was milking every sight, sound, scent, and awesome feeling for all it was worth, cause he wasn't about to ever let himself forget it. He didn't care that it was the smell of Azami's bed sheets that was turning Sakyo into an animal. That was kinda hot in its own, creepy way. Hell, Banri couldn't blame him. He was about two bases short of tapping that ass himself... Sure, at least he and Azami were born in the same decade, and he'd probably be way gentler about it than the way Sakyo was totally ravishing him... Point was, Azami was a babe, and he knew it. Besides, Banri couldn't imagine him actually being unwilling to let Sakyo have his way. Who would? The kid was no saint. He'd probably be thrilled a man like Sakyo wanted to fuck him. Banri was. All the more reason to take the bullet, then. He was saving an impressionable teenager. By having sex in said teenager's bed. With the man that practically raised... Damn, Sakyo was messed up. It was hot. Screwing around with Juza and Muku on and off for a year hadn't cured him of his kinks one bit.

"Settsu. You hearing me? Stop pulling my hair or I'll drop your naked ass out in the hallway, right now."

"Shit. Sorry." His knuckles stiff after gripping so hard, Banri relaxed his fingers, letting Sakyo move out of his range. "Hey. Can't you use my name, already?"

Sakyo didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed and tilted Banri's hips, and then a wet warmth squished into Banri's crack, swiping and circling his hole. Banri whimpered and gripped the bed sheets, since he was banned from holding onto Sakyo's hair to keep himself grounded. 

When he sneaked a peek, he just saw blond hair bobbing between his thighs. It was so surreal, especially how Sakyo's tongue was writhing in and out of him in a way his imagination could never predict or replicate.

"Dude," he hissed, cresting a wave of need at the sight. "Just fuck me already. I don't care if it hurts or whatever."

Sakyo's tongue hesitated, then squirmed free. Resting his cheek against one raised knee, the older man surveyed Banri. His skin was a little redder than usual, and it made his twin moles stand out prettily.

"I don't want to cause you any pain," Sakyo murmured. "I do care about you...Banri."

That hit the spot, and a weird kind of pressure rushed through Banri's whole body, tightening his chest and making his eyes sore for a moment...and then moist. He blinked the sensation away, then growled desperately, "Fuck you, Sakyo," hauling the man by the arm until their mouths crashed together in a painful collision of a kiss that turned into a pressure against his ass, and then his breath caught and his body fought as Sakyo merged inside of him. He knew he was gonna leave bruises on Sakyo's arms, the way he was squeezing, but then everything was still and calm for a bit and he realized he was holding his breath. Shaking with a series of exhalations and gasps, he slid his arms around Sakyo's surprisingly slight body.

All of a sudden, his last words rang in his head and he gasped an apology. He knew it probably didn't make any sense so he babbled as he buried his face into a pale shoulder. "I didn't mean that. You just... You pissed me off, getting all sentimental, cause it's not like you, and I can't take it. I can't. I can't let this mean more than it is. It's just sex. That's all I get to have of you, right? So go on. Do it. Move, damn it."

"No. Not until we get one thing straight," Sakyo murmured, shifting and adjusting stray bits of hair sticking to Banri's sweat-damp cheeks. He cupped and brushed the skin of one cheek, holding Banri's scared gaze. "You seem to be under the mistaken impression that I have no real feelings for you. I may be a twisted pervert, but I have a heart, Sett... Banri. You're dear to me, you know."

"Okay. Fine. I get it. You're not complete trash. So just... Move, already, okay!?"

"What'd you say?" The sharp warning in Sakyo's eyes was accompanied by a dark storm, clouding irises so grey they were almost indigo. "Who's trash?"

An unintelligible noise voiced Banri's simultaneous fear and bliss as Sakyo shifted within him, all menacing and rough, and... "I said you're not, damn it!"

"Not...completely, you said."

"Fuck. Deny it, then!" Banri growled back, too worked up to think straight. Sakyo was hard and full inside of him, emanating the kind of heat that one usually associated with fever when felt from within the body.

Bearing down on him, Sakyo's lips puffed out a warm breath at Banri's ear. "We'll be having words..." he threatened. "Later."

After that, Banri didn't even care what Sakyo was going to do to him for that slip, because he was being pounded like a slab of raw meat to be made tender. All he could do was dig his nails in for purchase and ride it out; aching throb, rising bliss, explosive heat, and all.

*

He wasn't going to get off with Azami's face in his mind, or Azami's name on his lips, or Azami's scent in his nostrils... That was the one thing Sakyo wasn't going to do. The one line he was not going to cross. The one promise to himself—and secretly to Banri—that he was not going to break.

He buried his face in Banri's hair and sucked in a deep breath, holding Banri's torso and flicking his thumb back and forth across a nipple so that Banri's rough, sexy cry sounded in his ear. It didn't matter how badly he wanted to pretend he was with Azami, just for a moment. It was Banri here with him now, and Banri he owed his attention to.

Reality, for once, wasn't so bad... In fact, Banri was downright adorable at times. Who knew? He blushed quite genuinely—right across the cheeks and nose—when anything hit close to his heart. If Sakyo had so much as imagined Banri could have been hiding such strong feelings for him, he might have made a move long ago. Lord knows, he himself needed this. Azuma was a great lay, but things were completely casual between them, as they had to be, for two men who appreciated each other but held no deeper attachment. Besides, there was a maturity and elegance to Azuma that made Sakyo crave...something else. Something less refined. Something like Banri's rough, needy, desperate physical dependence.

The claws biting his skin here, there, and everywhere were an unexpected thrill. The deep hunger of unrefined kisses boiled Sakyo's blood. The taste of rolling sweat, the glisten of saliva on gasping lips, the blood pooling under the surface of bite marks and hickeys down chest and neck... There was a raw intensity to Banri that Sakyo couldn't quite get enough of.

"Well?" he growled, "Don't keep me waiting." Just because he knew it would feel good between his teeth, he nibbled hard on Banri's ear lobe, and savored the hybrid, grunting shout born of the action.

"D-don't wait up for me..." Banri breathed, his voice betraying how little control he had, after all.

By the sounds of it, Sakyo could outlast him if he just hung in there a little longer. He reached down between them, taking Banri's erection—hardened to splitting—in his hand.

"You...first...old man," Banri hissed, his whole body straining as he fought to hold himself back.

Just for that last dig, Sakyo pressed his thumb down hard against the tip of Banri's cock, then began circling his nail around the head as if about to peel an over-ripe fruit. He held his body still, too aware of how close he, himself, was.

"Give it up, Settsu. Just cum for me like a good, obedient boy, for once," Sakyo coaxed, expecting his words to hit their mark.

He wasn't the only cunning strategist in the bed, however. Apparently Banri had learned much from his example over the course of a year.

"You mean...like Azami?" Banri groaned, arching his body to keep himself from being overwhelmed by the build of sensation. "Bet he'd cum real easy if you touched him like that. He'd be screaming what a dick you are the whole—"

Before Banri could finish his sentence, Sakyo's cock pulsed violently and his hips jerked of their own volition. They both went crashing through the crumbling wall of looming orgasm, head-on.

The one coherent thought Sakyo could grab onto was that this was going to work for him. This was his way out of dodge...or his highway to hell. One or the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isn't Banri just precious, though?
> 
> Seriously, though. You have no idea how long I've been sitting on this part of this chapter... It feels so great to finally post it!


End file.
